Loyaute Me Oblige-1
by sparklingstarsandmoonbeams
Summary: LOOSELY based on the Showtime Original Series, "The Tudors," this series follows the romance and courtship of Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk and OFC, Jane Stafford as they attempt to navigate the perils, intrigue, and scandal of the English court at a turning point in English history. (Like the show, this is NOT historically accurate).
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: A fanfic based loosely on the Showtime series, The Tudors, starring Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, Natalie Dormer, and Henry Cavill. Just as the series took historical liberties, so too will this story. Unlike the series where Charles Brandon marries Catherine, his young ward, this story follows his entirely fictional relationship with Jane Stafford. While I have tried to research as much about the time period as I can, I am sure there are some historical errors. Please do not take any information contained within this chapter or any others as historical "fact."_

Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk and closest friend and confidant of Henry VIII, was as well known for his good looks and charm as he was for being a notorious womanizer. Not even out of his twenties, he had already bedded and wedded the Princess Mary Tudor, the late sister of his majesty and rumors abounded about the scores of women he had not only deflowered but those with whom he had engaged in extramarital affairs as well. His reputation for absolute lust and desire for carnal pleasure was second only to that of the King himself. With the death of the Princess, he was ever more present at court, allegedly on the hunt for a new conquest to whet his insatiable appetites.

It was rumored that good King Harry was pressuring his dearest friend into a new match. People speculated that this had less to do with the King's desire to see his friend happy and settled and more to do with his desire to please his latest paramour, the Lady Anne Boleyn, who made no secret of her loathing for the Duke of Suffolk or his closeness with the King. The feeling was largely murmured to be mutual though Suffolk would never say as much in public for fear of displeasing the King whose temper was famously unstable.

When the letter arrived at Grentham Hall, it was a cold and dreary November day. Jane, eldest daughter of the Marquess of Hampshire, had seen the rider approaching and based on the livery and the sudden bustle and flurry of activity that immediately took place, she could only imagine that the letter was coming directly from the English court, perhaps even from the King himself. Finishing her morning repast, she rang for her lady's maid who assisted with attiring her and with the styling of her hair. Once completed, she retired to her study where she began to read. It was only a few moments later when her brother, William, eldest son, three years her senior, and heir to the family fortune burst through the door.  
"Father's had a letter," he began.  
"I saw the rider come up the path. Who was it from?" she asked.  
"The King. He's sending the Duke of Suffolk and several other nobles to stay here on their way to the North."

She said nothing, waited for him to continue. Despite their close relationship, despite how freely they spoke with one another, he was still her brother and the heir and there were rules that governed their every interaction.

"Father is already ordering the servants about, demanding the finest wines be brought from the cellars and that the best tableware be taken out and cleaned in preparation. He's looking for you, insists that he needs you to take all of the arrangements in hand."  
After the death of their mother three years earlier, Jane had become the lady of the house and whenever they had guests or entertained it inevitably fell to her to be sure that everything was prepared to her father's exacting standards.

"How much time are we to have?" she asked.  
"They'll arrive before nightfall in two days and stay for a week."  
"Two days? William, that's impossible. However are we going to get everything done in time?"  
He took her hands in his own, "If anyone can accomplish it, it's you dearest sister," he said, "And now, I really must go, Father's put me in charge of overseeing all of the sport."  
She nodded, mind spinning with all the things that needed to be done.  
"Oh and Jane," he said, turning back to her, "We're to have a masque and the King asks that all of the loveliest maids of the land be invited to attend."  
Of course he had, she thought to herself. He's sending Charles Brandon and hopes to keep him entertained with the daughters of Earls and Counts.

The herald had arrived shortly after dusk, announcing the impending arrival of the Duke of Suffolk and his other traveling companions. Her father, Edmund Stafford, had been made a Marquess by the King's father. He had fought alongside both the old King and the new King as well as with Charles Brandon, then a mere untitled friend of the King. Beside her father, stood her brother, resplendent in his finest clothes. She was slightly behind William in a gown of cream, her dark hair curled and brushing her shoulders, a small coronet of pearls wound through her hair. Behind her were their other siblings, sister, Anne, brothers Thomas and Edmund, and sister Lucy. The baby, Henry, only four, was in the nursery with his governess.

The men rode into the courtyard and she saw William give a quick, reassuring smile in her direction which she returned. Suffolk was first off his horse, greeting her father heartily and embracing him like an old friend. He turned to William, embracing him. She had forgotten that they too, knew each other from the days William had spent at court before their mother's death.  
"Your grace, may I present my daughter, the Lady Jane Stafford," she heard her father say and she curtsied low before him.  
"Your grace," she said softly, rising and raising her eyes to his.  
The twinkling mirth of his blue eyes, the mischievous grin, the curl of his brown hair all stole her breath away. She had heard of his good looks, but now, standing before him, she was suddenly taken aback.  
"Lady Jane," he greeted, voice low, a whisper over her skin.  
Her father continued on with his introductions and then led the men into the house as the rest of them trailed behind.

They had laid out a spread to rival the ones at court and gathered around the table, the candlelight flickering around them, William nodded in approval at all of his sister's hard work. The food was superb, the décor exquisite, fit for the King himself. He knew she had worked relentlessly over the past two days, knew she had barely slept as she planned menus and entertainment, written invitations to all of the noble families in the area inviting them to the masque in three days time, not to mention overseeing all of the cooking and cleaning and the schedules for the younger children.  
"Well done," he complimented in her ear as she sat beside him. She looked lovely in her cream gown with her dark hair curling softly. She reminded him so much of their mother; beautiful, intelligent, sharp witted, and far more independent than she let on. He knew she needed to be married, knew his father was searching endlessly for the right match, knew they were both reluctant to let her go. There had been a brief engagement when she was eighteen but it had ended when their mother fell ill and their father realized he needed her at home more than he needed a dowry. Now, she was nearly twenty-two, a virtual old maid by the standards of the day and it was becoming more and more pressing to have her married and settled, even if it meant losing her.

He wondered if there might be a man among those seated at the table tonight. In addition to the Duke, there were a handful of Earls and several Barons. More than half were already married but there were several who had been widowed and still a few more who had not yet married at all. Reaching for his wine he noticed the Duke of Suffolk, seated across from her, was staring as she conversed with Lord Pole who was seated next to her. Charles' eyes met William's after a few moments and he could have sworn he saw a flicker of embarrassment cross the Duke's face. Later, as everyone began to retire to bed, he saw Suffolk standing near the door watching as she curtsied to each guest and said good night. And if William hadn't known better, he may very well have guessed that Charles Brandon, famous scoundrel, was taking an interest in his sister.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: For those who are interested, "Loyaute Me Oblige" is the family motto of the Duke of Suffolk's family._

Lying in his bedchamber later that evening, Charles Brandon pondered what for him was surely a first, the twinges of emotion, perhaps even of sentimentality that he'd felt that evening as he watched the Lady Jane entertain the noble guests of her father. He'd known her father for years, having fought alongside him in France. He knew William, the Earl of Devonshire and future Marquis, from times they had spent together at court. He was a skilled swordsman, an able hunter, and quick witted and lively; all of which endeared him to the King who appreciated young, virile, educated men around him. He lived for the challenge of besting them all. It had been at least a year since he'd seen William who had been summoned to return home at the death of his mother and then returned to court briefly for the Christmas celebrations last year. Charles knew he was a favorite of the ladies at court, knew that several of her majesty's ladies in waiting had their sights set upon him, knew he had bedded at least one of them, the one he himself had urged into the Earl's bedchambers. And yet, William, not unlike his sister, remained unmarried.  
Perhaps what he had felt that evening had been the warmth and intimacy that seemed to surround the entire family of the Marquis. It was a strangely disconcerting feeling having been separated from his own parents at an early age and sent to live with the royal family as playmate first to Prince Arthur and then eventually to Prince Harry. His father had died in battle, the standard bearer of Henry VII, and as a reward for his service, Charles had been brought up with the finest education and opportunities well beyond that of his actual station in life. He barely remembered his mother at all. Though he had no experience of such familial devotion himself, he knew it when he saw it, and somehow he realized that the Lady Jane was at the center of it all.  
There was no doubt that she was tremendously beautiful with her creamy skin and dark hair and those luminous brown eyes that sparkled when she smiled or laughed. She was obviously well educated as he'd heard her conversing in both French and Italian at different points throughout the evening. She was clearly capable of running a household, a large household at that and there was her quiet demeanor, the way she would touch her father's arm gently or the way she'd smiled at William during dinner or the low steady voice with which she'd spoken to the servants, neither demeaning nor condescending, merely authoritative and direct. He'd wondered why he had never seen her at court. Surely she had scores of suitors, all clamoring to claim her as their own, not only for her great beauty but also for what he assumed would be a lavish dowry. He'd have to devise a way to ask William about this without seeming too forward. There had to be some reason; a hidden physical deformity, perhaps she was simple, or worse yet, perhaps her reputation had been tarnished by an illicit tryst between young lovers. Whatever the reason, he had to know. Staring at the ceiling of the canopied bed, his mind continued to wander, distracting himself with thoughts of his most recent conquest, a supple and lithe young lady whose family was looking to rise in the King's favor and hoped that by offering their daughter to his majesty's closest companion, the wheel of fortune would turn in their favor. He'd bedded her a dozen times or so over the course of the last weeks and though she was both pretty and willing, he had already grown bored of her. The King, in his infinite kindness, had her betrothed to a Lord Hill and had sent Charles away on this latest journey. The father, in gratitude for his assistance to the Duke, had received lands and the title of Lord Cavendish. He chuckled softly to himself, being the friend of the King most certainly had its benefits.

After ensuring that a midday meal had been prepared and packed, she saw the men off to hunt and returned to the house prepared to collapse upon her bed at the very first opportunity. Of course it was never quite that simple. Both Anne and Lucy required someone to oversee the fitting of their gowns for the masque in a few days time. Once that had been situated she went to check in on Henry with his tutor. Delighted to see his sister, whom he adored as the only motherly figure in his life, he practically raced from his chair when his tutor, Mr. Swyndale, nodded his permission. As he was about to fling himself into her outstretched arms, he caught himself, stopped short of her reach and bowed before her, "My lady," he greeted in his high, sweet voice, still that of a small child.  
"Good sir," she replied, nodding her head to him, a small smile playing at her lips. She had so hoped to keep him small and devoted to her forever. She'd been eighteen when he was born, an age at which many of her female companions were already on their second or third child. Her mother had been so ill after he was born that Jane had done much of the mothering in those early days. She tousled his hair and after speaking for a few moments with Mr. Swyndale, she returned to the great room, checking that the flowers and tables for tonight's activities were being prepared to her specifications. Tonight's festivities would include a meal, poetry performed by a traveling minstrel who had received acclaim in the neighboring town for his verse and capable performance, and dancing with music provided by musicians the King himself had sent. Finally assured that all was smoothly underway, she turned to retire to her chamber for a midday rest but before she had reached the stairs, the groom announced a guest.  
"The Lady Eleanor Howard, my lady," he pronounced, before giving a slight bow and backing from the room.  
Eleanor Howard, daughter of the Earl of Wiltshire, had been Jane's closest friend and playmate since their days as children. Their fathers were friendly, having served under Henry VII and their mother's had been ladies in waiting to Queen Elizabeth as girls. Jane and Eleanor had been born only months apart and were more like sisters than simply friends.  
Since no one else was present, they skipped the normal formalities and Eleanor took her friend's arm.  
"Walk with me in the garden," she asked, though it was really more of a command than a request.  
Sighing, Jane went to collect her cloak and gloves, joining her friend on the hardened pathway.  
"You must tell me everything. How many are there? Are there any ladies among their party? Is the Duke of Suffolk as handsome as they say?"  
Jane had anticipated these very questions the moment she had sent the letter to the Earl of Wiltshire inviting he, his wife, and their four oldest children, including Eleanor to attend the festivities they'd be hosting throughout the week, including the party this evening and the masque later in the week.  
"There are twenty nobles; several earls and barons, a few lords, and of course, the Duke. That does not include the musicians and servants and grooms and livery men who accompanied them, of course. There are no ladies among their party, the reason, I'm sure, that the King has requested we invite every lady of noble birth to attend on them. And the Duke of Suffolk is…" she began, uncertain what to say. She could say he was handsome, even more than she had heard rumored. It wouldn't have been a lie. He was handsome; tall and broad shouldered, with dark curly hair that she had desperately wanted to reach out and touch when he'd bowed to her the day before. And then there were his eyes; blue as the sky with a small patch of brown in the corner of the left one. Those eyes she had felt upon her all evening.  
"Jane?" her friend questioned quietly, "Are you quite well?"  
"Yes, sorry. I haven't been sleeping well. What were you asking?  
"The Duke?" Eleanor repeated, not failing to notice her friend's momentary silence had been caused earlier by discussion of his Grace.  
"As handsome as they say," Jane replied, wanting to continue this conversation and to change the topic all at the same time.  
Sensing her friend's reluctance to discuss this further, she asked about the guest list for the week and Jane recited the list of names, grateful for the opportunity to talk about anything other than the looks and charm of Charles Brandon.  
"Margaret Thrope will be coming?" Eleanor asked midway through the list.  
Jane nodded her head. Eleanor disliked Margaret as much as it was rumored that Anne Boleyn hated the Queen. The reasons for such animosity were largely similar as well. Eleanor, who had known William Stafford his entire life, had fallen in love with him when she was twelve or thirteen and she suddenly realized the little boy she had once play jousted with in the gardens of Grentham Hall had suddenly grown into a worldly and handsome young man. The year William spent abroad in France had done little to assuage her feelings for him. In fact, when he returned, ever the dashing courtier, she'd only fallen more madly in love with him. There was a brief, fleeting engagement for Eleanor, to a French duke who had become quite taken with her while he was at court but the man sadly died from the sweating sickness and Jane knew Eleanor had breathed a sigh of relief at having escaped a life spent abroad, torn from her family and friends with people she hardly knew. The main obstacle, or the one Eleanor perceived to be the main obstacle, was an ages old unspoken agreement that Sheldon daughters married Stafford men. Her father had been the first to break the mold and marry a Gordon, distant relations of the Seymours. He was in no particular rush to marry off his heir to a girl whose father he loathed so when Margaret had married, Lord Thrope, a sigh of relief had been released by all parties involved. The catch, of course, was that Lord Thrope was quite old and passed away after only two years of wedded bliss, leaving Margaret childless and penniless and wholly at her father's mercy. It was really no great surprise when she returned home and her relentless pursuit of the Earl of Devonshire had begun once more.  
"Nora, my dearest, sweetest, Nora," Jane began, taking her friend's gloved hands in her own, "You know that William has eyes only for you."  
"I know no such thing, Jane Stafford!" she protested in embarrassment, though if his frequent visits to Pontefract Manor were any indication, Jane's words were quite true.  
"He asked if you were to wear blue this evening," Jane said knowingly.  
"He did?" she asked softly, almost a whisper.  
"He may have mentioned in passing that he found blue to be quite a pretty color for a lady with your hair color."  
"Don't tease me, Jane."  
"I swear I am not, Nora. I would never tease you about this. You know I have no greater desire than to see you married and settled with William because then we will truly be sisters," she responded seriously.  
"And you know my most heartfelt prayer is that you find a dashing, handsome, chivalrous man of great birth and a noble family to whisk you away to his grand estate where he will spend the rest of his life worshipping you."  
Jane laughed. It was the exact description of the romantic ideal she had described long ago when they were young girls, daydreaming about their future husbands.  
"I think now I would be happy with a good, kind, quiet man who was content to leave me the small pleasures of my books and the companionship of my family and friends," Jane stated truthfully, well aware that her prospects diminished more and more with each passing year.  
"Loveliest Jane, you far underestimate your effect on men."  
"I am quite happy, Nora. I have everything I need right here at Grentham."  
Even to her own ears it rang false. She loved her family, knew they needed her, knew her father would struggle without her assistance though Anne and Lucy would step in to take over yet the one thing she most desired; children and a home of her own had eluded her for all these many years. She knew many women her own age and younger who had been wedded and bedded for years, some were on their second husbands, two were on their third. She'd assisted at labors and deliveries, been godmother to a score of babies, had even witnessed the bethrothal of her six year old goddaughter to a noble three times her age. Many days Jane was convinced that she would see that little girl wedded and bedded before she herself ever knew the matrimonial bed.  
"It will all be well, dearest Jane, "Nora soothed, arm around the waist of her companion and Jane smiled at her, "Perhaps one of these noble gentlemen will fall passionately in love with you."  
"Perhaps," Jane responded though she was almost certain there was not one who'd shown the faintest bit of interest in her last night.  
"Maybe even the Duke of Suffolk himself," Nora said, a devilish gleam in her eye.  
The Duke of Suffolk, himself, thought Jane, There was a better chance of the King setting aside Queen Katharine as he was rumored to want than there was of Charles Brandon falling in love with her.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a most successful hunt. Despite the lateness of the season, there had been plenty of game and at days end they were bringing home a carts worth of items caught and killed.  
"You are an impressive huntsman, Lord Devonshire," the Duke of Suffolk commented.  
"Thank you, your grace. I am fortunate to have the advantage here as I have hunted these grounds since I was a boy," William commented graciously.  
"Your father's lands are truly beautiful, my lord. If I were you, I would never leave," he stated.  
"Then I consider myself fortunate to never have to, your grace," William replied.  
"Do you all feel as strongly about your home?" Suffolk inquired.  
"Your grace?" William's voice was perplexed.  
"Your sister, the Lady Jane, I have not seen her at court, nor Mistresses Anne and Lucy. Have they not been presented to his majesty?"

"No, your grace. My mother fell quite ill after the birth of my brother Henry and rather than present Jane, my father required her help at home. Neither Anne nor Lucy can be presented until Jane herself is."  
" Why is there a delay now? Surely a young lady of your sister's stature and learning would easily find a position in the queen's entourage. I'm certain that his majesty would gladly make introductions to the finest of families."  
"Jane has no stomach for life at court with its machinations and gossip. She is happy here amongst her family. I fear my father would be lost without her. In truth we would all be lost without her."  
"But surely, my lord, she must marry and leave home eventually?"  
William cast a sidelong glance at his riding companion. He was uncertain as to where this conversation was going but more than that he wondered why the Duke was so interested.  
"Eventually, yes, your grace. My father is carefully considering many possible suitors. Of course, when one is decided upon he will need to request the King's permission."  
"Naturally. Is there any impediment which might impede a marriage?"  
"No, your grace. No. She is as fine a noblewoman as any in the land. There is no impediment other than my father's reluctance to let her go," he said and Suffolk knew it was no falsehood.  
The ride continued on and they talked amiably about the day, the evening's festivities, and plans for the remainder of the visit. His questions now answered, Suffolk felt assured that the Lady Jane was quite fit for life at court. He was unable to understand why he cared or why he wished most fervently that she would soon come to court. William, a man of few words and even less understanding of the convoluted politics and machinations of the English court was unable to identify what it was that so concerned him about the Duke's inquiries but there was something, something that left lingering questions of his own.

Eleanor was nervous. A flurry of movement in her stomach, like the wings of a thousand butterflies in the garden, beat inside of her. She had changed half a dozen times, selecting one blue gown, then another, and still another until she had finally settled on the midnight blue gown that now adorned her body. It had a bodice of seeded pearls and a long train. Her ladies had braided pearls throughout her beautiful blonde hair and her ears and neck were adorned with pearl jewelry. She looked every bit the young and beautiful woman she was. Her family was announced and her father led her mother into the great room, followed by Eleanor and her younger siblings. She gave a brief smile to Jane as they entered and walked to greet the Duke.

He was every bit as handsome as had been described to her, a gigantic towering man with dark hair and seductive blue eyes and yet, Eleanor found her eyes wandering to another man, one she had known much longer, and one for whom there was no compare in her estimation. Suffolk did not miss the look that passed between the Lady Eleanor and the Earl, nor did he miss the slight blush that rose to her cheeks. It would seem that the Earl was not as committed to a life of bachelorhood as he had imagined.

As soon as she was free to, she sought to find Jane, easily spotted in her red gown, dark hair tumbling down her back.

"The Duke is more handsome than is rumored," she whispered.

Jane looked up, caught the Duke looking in her direction, and quickly turned to Nora.

"He is also quite rude," Jane commented, caught off guard as she was by the attention he seemed to pay her and no other lady in the room.

"Whatever do you mean, Jane?"

"I find him staring at me."

"Staring?"

"Yes, looking at me, glancing in my direction when he thinks I do not see him. I feel his eyes upon me even now," she whispered.

Eleanor looked over Jane's shoulder to where the Duke stood with the Marquis and several other nobles. It was plain as day that his eyes were upon Jane.

"Perhaps he is meant to make a report of you," she suggested.

"A report of me? To whom?"

" The King? Maybe that was the reason he was sent, to report back about the ladies of the realm and given that you are the highest ranking one amongst us, perhaps his majesty is most especially interested in you."

"In me? Whatever for?"

"Maybe the King has a match in mind for you, Jane."

It was a possibility that terrified her. She had dreaded this very thing since she had been old enough to remember. She had known her father would be the one to ultimately determine her future but given her family's rank and titles, there was always the possibility that the King himself would make the match for her. It was a part of the reason why her father had steadfastly kept her from court, worried that the famously intemperate and volatile King might make a match that was less than his precious daughter deserved. Whatever the reason for the constant watch, she knew she would be unable to do anything but act as her station commanded.

After dinner the minstrel arrived to perform and Jane, tired of imagining what was running through the mind of the Duke of Suffolk, tired of worrying about what the King might have planned for her, turned her attentions instead to her brother beside her who was making no secret of the fact that he was looking at Eleanor.

"She looks quite lovely this evening, does she not?" she asked in his ear.

"The blue makes her even more radiant than normal," he commented without thinking.

Realizing that he had just said what he had been thinking aloud, he turned to his sister, a sheepish grin upon his face.

"Is it really that obvious?" he asked.

"Dearest brother, it has always been that obvious," she replied with a smile.

"And does this…do my intentions to court her have your blessing?" he asked. He had already spoken with the Earl of Wiltshire and sought his permission as well as the permission and blessing of his father. But she was Jane's most trusted and beloved friend and knowing she was pleased would provide him with the necessary go ahead.

"Always, William. Always," she responded quietly, a gentle hand to his.

From across the room, Eleanor glanced once more in the direction of Jane and William, her eyes first meeting those of the man she most desired and then fleetingly with Jane who smiled at her, nodded her head, and returned to her wine. And then her eyes were locked with William's once more and she knew everything was going to be different.


	4. Chapter 4

Crossing the room purposefully, his eyes were focused on one person, his stride growing quicker with each step. His heart was pounding within his chest for reasons he could not understand. He had known Eleanor Howard his entire life. They had played together as children, grown into adulthood under the careful watch of their families. It was William who had assisted in her presentation to the King and Queen when she first came to court and it was William who had drank himself into a stupor for three days after she became betrothed to a Frenchmen of all things. And now finally, he had acquired the necessary permission to pay court to her and he intended to make the most of every moment they had together.  
"Lord Devonshire," a female voice rang out. He was mere steps away from her table, seconds away from asking her to dance and telling her his intentions and all that stood between him and his flaxen haired beauty was Margaret Thrope.

"Lady Thrope," he greeted, bowing to her, "So lovely to see you this evening. Are you enjoying yourself?"  
"Indeed I am, my lord. The food is exceptional, the décor and entertainment are superb and the company is charming," she replied, a seductive smile on her face.  
He caught sight of Eleanor over Lady Thrope's shoulder, saw the disheartened expression that crossed her lovely face and felt a fleeting moment of panic that she would leave and he would have to wait until the next time he saw her to lay out his heart.  
"Pardon me," a deep, male voice interrupted and William turned to find himself face to face with the Duke of Suffolk, "I wondered if I might interrupt and ask for the pleasure of a dance with Lady Thrope," he said, bowing in Margaret's direction.  
Profoundly relieved and grateful for the interruption, William stepped aside to allow her to take the Duke's proffered hand.  
"It would be my deepest honor, your grace," she said, curtseying low and giggling with that irritating laugh of hers.  
Leading her to the center of the room where other couples had begun to gather, Charles Brandon caught sight of the Lady Jane watching him intently, an unreadable expression upon her face.  
She had seen the entire interaction from her seat, watched as Margaret Thrope had inconveniently intercepted her brother on his way to Eleanor, tapped her foot impatiently as the woman simpered at William, and then found herself smiling when the Duke of Suffolk had stepped in and led the Lady Margaret away for a dance. Now she watched her brother once more, his smile as broad as ever as he reached Eleanor who stood and curtsied. Unable to hear what was being said, she could ascertain that he had asked to speak with her because she saw them move away into one of the side rooms where it was quieter and more private.  
"Why are you smiling so prettily, daughter?" Edmund Stafford asked his daughter as he returned to his seat.  
"I am quite happy for William and Eleanor," she said, linking her arm through his.  
"Ah, he told you finally."  
"He did indeed and I couldn't be more pleased. They are well suited for each other."  
"She will make a fine match for your brother," he agreed, "Now, if only we could find you as suitable a husband," he said, sipping his wine.  
"Father, really. You know I am quite happy here. I would never want to leave you or the children. I am perfectly content to live my life in much the way I am," she stated.  
"I know, my child. But I fear I have been selfish for far too long. That my need for your assistance has overshadowed your own need to marry and bear children."  
"Father, I—" she began but he interrupted once more, "I think it may be time, Jane."  
"Time for what?" she asked, unable to keep the fear out of her voice or her eyes.  
"To find you a husband, my sweetest daughter."  
He saw the panic on her face and sought to allay her fears, "Do not fear Jane, I am not about to hand you off to the highest bidder. I merely am suggesting that perhaps it is time for me to begin to look more seriously at potential matrimonial candidates."  
She nodded obediently.  
"Take heart, Jane; nothing is going to be decided tonight," he promised, patting her hand and kissing the crown of her head, "And now I really must go and speak with Lord Hudson about the tournament."  
Alone once more, she shut her eyes briefly, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall and the headache that had begun to form. She took a deep breath, regained her composure and opened her eyes to find the Duke of Suffolk standing before her.  
"My lady," he greeted, bowing to her.  
"Your grace," she replied, nodding her head in return.  
"I apologize for being too familiar, my lady, but might I inquire as to whether you are feeling well?" he asked.  
She realized he had caught her with her eyes shut.  
"Yes, your grace, quite well."  
"Well then, I hoped you might do me the honor of partnering me through the pavane," he said, offering his arm to her.  
She paused for a moment, considered pleading fatigue but since she had just told him she was well, the excuse would seem like a snub.  
"With pleasure, your grace," she replied, smiling at him and taking the arm he offered as he led her from the dais onto the floor.  
The pavane was a simple, traditional slow dance which required the partners to touch their fingertips to one another while completing steps in a series of five. The music started up and he bowed while she curtsied. The moment his warm fingertips brushed against hers she felt a ripple of something rush through her body. She had done this dance countless times before with partners young and old and never had her body reacted so forcibly to the touch of fingers against her own.  
He danced remarkably well for a man of his size and she found that every time she looked up, his eyes were boring into her own. As the dance concluded, he took her hand, pressing it softly to his lips, and then rushed off with hardly another word to her, leaving her trembling in his wake.  
Alone in the hallway, he released a gigantic breath of air. It had taken every ounce of self- control he possessed to not wrap his hands around her waist and kiss her until she was breathless. A jolt had gone straight through him when her fingertips had met his own and he found that he was unable to keep his eyes off of her as they danced.  
He recognized now that what he had felt the evening prior had been much more than the simple lust he felt when he looked at beautiful women. It was desire, of that there was no doubt but beyond his longing to touch and hold her lay an even stronger need to know everything about her. A servant walked by carrying some wine and he signaled for a glass, drinking it in four large gulps. The combination of the wine and several additional deep breaths had calmed him sufficiently to allow him to return to the party. His eyes searched for her as soon as he reentered the room but she was no longer among the guests gathered there. Instead he found himself once more in the company of the Lady Margaret Thrope, an insufferable woman of little learning and an obvious desire to lure the man with the highest title and greatest wealth into her snare.

William had led Eleanor from the great room into a smaller room off of the hall where a few people were gathered, speaking quietly in various spots throughout the room. Despite the presence of others, it was vastly less noisy here and there was far less of a chance of being interrupted. Of course the people present provided a certain level of watchfulness, which was certain to make her more comfortable being alone with him. He found a set of empty chairs, leading her to them so that he could sit beside her.  
"My lord?" she questioned, once she had settled into the seat he had offered her.  
Her hopes had risen as she had seen him striding across the room towards her table only to fall as she watched Margaret Thrope approach like an owl swooping in upon its prey. Then somehow, miraculously, the Duke of Suffolk, like an angel from heaven had stepped in and gallantly led the loathsome woman away. Seconds later, though it felt like hours to her, he was beside her, smiling down at her with the familiar lopsided grin he had, the grin she had come to know and love in all the years they had spent together, the grin he was now giving to her as if she were the only person in the room.  
He asked if he might speak with her privately, offered her his arm and had led her here.  
"Lady Eleanor," he began, "It is my duty…No, it is my privilege…" he started once more.  
Damn, he thought to himself, I am making a mess of this. He'd had a speech prepared, had practiced before coming down for the evening but now she was sitting beside him, so close he could smell the sweetness of her perfume and hair, that he had turned into a mumbling idiot.  
"William," she said softly, laying a small, delicate hand upon his arm.  
It was the first time she had called him by his Christian name in years. Once they had come of age he was always "my lord" or "Lord William" and she was "my lady" or "Lady Eleanor" and to hear her speak his name in her lovely voice was nearly his undoing.  
"My answer is yes," she said, her eyes meeting his blue grey ones.  
"But, I didn't even…"  
"You didn't need to. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice," she was shocked by her own boldness but she had grown weary of waiting for this moment.  
"It would truly be my great honor to pay court to you, Lady Eleanor," he said finally.  
He knew she didn't need to hear it, knew that she had already realized what he would ask before he could speak, but he needed to say the words himself, needed to give voice to what he had been longing to say for three, nearly four long years.  
"Will you say yes?" he asked, despite the fact that the question had already been asked and answered through looks alone.  
"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes," she said, voice rising with delight and joy.  
He squeezed her hand tightly in his own and they smiled at each other with the joy of people whose deepest longing had finally been satisfied.  
"Now will you do me the immeasurable honor of partnering me for a dance or two?" he asked, rising to his feet once more and offering her his hand.  
"Gladly, my lord," she replied, placing her small hand into his larger, stronger one. When his fingers clasped softly over the back of the delicate skin of her hand, she sighed softly. Finally, after all these years, after time apart, after a near marriage had almost ended everything, the hands she spent endless hours thinking about, dreaming of, were holding her own.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: An NSFW reference.  
A list of characters to keep the Henry's straight._

Henry VIII (played by Jonathan Rhys-Meyers in The Tudors)  
Henry Stafford-Jane's youngest brother  
Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk (played by Henry Cavill in the Tudors)

 _Again, this is a work of historical fiction based_ _ **loosely**_ _on the Showtime series, "The Tudors."_

The next morning Jane was profoundly grateful for the chance to have a bit of a lie in. The day had been purposely kept clear of any activity in preparation for the tournament tomorrow and though there would be a dinner this evening with music and dancing, there was little for her to do this morning. She had seen Nora for a few minutes at the end of the evening and the radiant smile on her friend's face told her all she needed to know. She noticed that William wore a similarly dazzling grin and she'd had to refrain from laughing when she heard him humming to himself under his breath as he made his way to bed. Things had obviously gone well between them.  
Her mind wandered between thoughts of the conversation with her father and thoughts of her encounter with the Duke of Suffolk. Her limited interactions with men who were not her family along with her appalling lack of familiarity with the customs of the English court made her question everything he said or did. She had gone over in her mind anything she may have said or done that would have caused him offense and could find no fault with how she had conducted herself. She thought about the way his hand had touched hers, the way he'd looked at her; a mixture of interest and something else she couldn't identify. She took her hand, placing it against her lips at the same spot he had kissed her last night. For the briefest of moments she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to feel those lips pressed against her own.

Such a silly little fool, she thought, mentally chastising herself for even entertaining such a thought. This was the Duke of Suffolk she was thinking about, a man whose carnal appetites were surpassed only by those of the King. There was no reason for him to show her any additional kindness or attention other than for the simple reason that she was the Marquis' daughter and the de facto lady of the house. Besides, what could she possibly have to offer that he couldn't get anywhere he wanted at court?

He'd slept restlessly, tormented by visions of creamy skin and dark hair and eyes; those achingly luminous, endlessly deep pools that both spoke so much and revealed nothing at the same time. He'd awakened, drenched in sweat, her name on his lips and a spot of his own sticky seed covering his inner thigh. Good Christ, he was having nocturnal emissions over a woman he hardly knew. This hadn't happened to him since he was a boy and he was appalled by his own thoughts and unnerved by the reaction he was having to her. After washing and dressing himself, he went to the family chapel, finding the priest in conversation with the Marquis himself.

"Your grace," both men greeted as he strode purposefully down the center aisle.  
"I'm sorry to interrupt Lord Edmund, I had hoped that the good Friar might hear my confession and provide me with the sacrament," he said.  
"Of course, your grace, I would be happy to," the Friar replied and Edmund Stafford bowed before leaving the sacred space.  
He unburdened his soul to the Friar, glossing over the fact that it was the Lady Jane who had aroused such passions within him. Absolved of his sins and having completed his penance, he knelt before the altar to receive communion and then remained kneeling in silent prayer.  
When she'd entered the chapel, she had expected for it to be empty. Her father and William usually attended together in the morning before moving on to whatever tasks the day brought, Anne, Lucy, Thomas, and Henry would attend at the conclusion of their lessons and she usually arrived shortly before lunch to pray a rosary or have her confession heard by Friar John. But this morning she was taken aback to find the Duke of Suffolk kneeling in prayer before the altar. The sun shone through the stained glass windows, casting him into its light, making it seem as if God himself was shining down upon him. Not wishing to disturb him, she moved quietly to one of the nearby pews and began to pray the rosary as she often did when her mind was restless with doubt and worry.  
He completed his prayers, blessed himself with the sign of the cross and turned to leave, momentarily caught off guard by the presence of a woman in the chapel. He knew it was her before he was even close enough to see her face. She was modestly attired in a simple gown of yellow, her hair covered with a sheer veil that matched the dress. He could see her fingers move over the beads of her rosary and he watched her mouth move silently with each prayer. She didn't glance his way, didn't move to acknowledge his presence and he felt a flicker of annoyance. She was either one of those irritatingly pious women who thought the more time they spent in prayer, the holier they became or she was making a concerted effort to not notice him. His boot steps across the stone floor left little doubt that there was someone else present in the little chapel. He paused briefly at the doorway, turning to see if she had moved but her head was still bent, lost in her own reflections.  
She'd heard him approach, could feel his eyes upon her and with a force of will that surprised her, she kept her eyes downcast as her fingers moved over the smooth beads of her rosary. She certainly didn't want to give the impression that she took her prayers lightly but beyond that, she didn't want him to know that she was desperate for a glance or look or greeting from him. Rather than risk seeming improper or too forward, she kept her eyes firmly focused on the floor. It was only when she heard the door shut behind him that she dared to exhale.

She had skipped lunch in favor of listening in on Henry's Latin lesson. His progress delighted her. He was smart and precocious and utterly and completely charming. It had given her good reason to avoid the Duke of Suffolk who seeing earlier in the chapel had left her feeling uneasy and bewildered. She hardly knew this man. In fact, most of what she did know was rumor and innuendo. They'd barely spoken more than a few words since his arrival and yet, she found herself unable to stop thinking of him.  
"Lady Jane?" Master Swyndale called softly, interrupting her thoughts and drawing her back to the present.  
"Yes, Master Swyndale?"  
"The young master wondered if you might take him and Cattulus for a walk in the gardens?" he inquired.  
She looked at the small, eager face of her brother. "Have you finished your lessons?"  
"Yes, my lady."  
"And gone to chapel and said your prayers?"  
"Yes, my lady."  
"Then I think if you go find Lady Hastings and get your cloak, we can take a walk before it grows too dark," she agreed.  
The sun was beginning to set so they didn't have much time left to enjoy the full pathways of the garden but there would be enough time for Henry and Cattulus to have a quick romp before she had to return him to the nursery.  
Once freed from the confines of the indoors and his studies, Henry became another child almost entirely. He ran ahead of her, Cattulus following at his master's heels, and she hastened after them, drawing up the hem of her gown and running behind them. After a few moments of twisting and turning through the garden's maze, they arrived at the small pond which Henry was absolutely enthralled with. He began to wander towards the water's and Jane called after him, warning him to not wander too close to the edge.  
She watched him skip pebbles across the pond as she walked her own route around the water's edge, smiling at his attempts and applauding loudly when he successfully managed to make it skip. As she rounded the bend, a man came out of the nearby pathway and she stopped.  
"Your grace," she greeted, curtseying low to him.  
"Lady Jane," he responded, a little shocked that their paths had somehow managed to cross once more given the size of not only the estate but its gardens.  
At that moment, Henry broke the awkward silence, "Janey! Janey! Sister! Look!" he cried, his excitement making him forget the rules of etiquette that had been so routinely drilled into his head. She turned in the direction of his voice, a lovely smile appearing on her face as the little boy, dark haired and green eyed, ran across the lawn towards her.  
"See what I found," he said, holding out his hand and slowly unfurling his small fingers from around his treasure.  
"What is it?" she asked, feigning wonder.  
"A snail," he whispered, as though it was the world's greatest secret.  
"That is amazing," she whispered back, head bowed close to his.  
The Duke was struck by the scene before him. He'd inadvertently wandered into the most private of family moments and yet she behaved as though having him present was as normal as finding a snail by the edge of a pond. He felt like an interloper and cleared his throat. Jane, remembering that they had company, straightened and turned to speak to her brother, "Henry, this is the Duke of Suffolk."  
"Your grace," he replied, bowing to the older man before him.  
"Sir Henry," Charles responded, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips.  
Cattulus ran up beside them, nipping at the Duke's boots before jumping onto Henry and licking him.  
"Cattulus…Cattulus, stop," Henry shrieked in delight as he attempted to get the dog to heel.  
"The dog's name is Cattulus?" he asked from beside her.  
"All of my father's dogs are named after the Roman philosophers and playwrights," she replied, gifting him with another one of her lovely smiles.  
"Well, Cattulus, " he began, crouching down so he was eye to eye with Henry and patting the dog affectionately, "Do you think you can lead us out of this maze of twists and turns?"  
"Course he can. He's an excellent nav…nab..navi…what's the word, Janey?"  
"Navigator and it's of course he can, Henry," she corrected gently.  
"Well lead the way then Cattulus. I've been wandering in circles forever," he said.  
"What about me?" Henry asked.  
"Are you a good navigator?" he asked seriously and Henry nodded.  
"Then all good navigators need a sword," he said, standing and unfastening the belt around his waist that held his small scabbard and knife.  
Henry looked at the Duke with a look that bordered on reverence. The Duke stooped once more to fasten the belt tightly around the small boy's frame. It was obviously quite a bit too large for him but Charles managed to cinch and tuck it just so.  
"Now then young navigator; are you and your fearless guide dog prepared to lead this lady and I from the perils of this garden?" he asked solemnly.  
"Yes, your grace."  
"Onward then," he commanded and Henry took off into the hedge, Cattulus close on his heels.  
"That was really far too kind of you," she said as they entered the pathway themselves.  
"He reminds me of another Henry I knew at that age," he said with a smile.  
"Are you referring to his majesty?" she asked and then immediately felt ridiculous for having asked such an obvious question.  
"I am indeed," he replied, seeing the blush that colored her cheeks.  
"Have you known each other long?"  
"Nearly our whole lives," he answered.  
"What is he like?" she asked boldly. She'd always wondered if what she had heard was true and now, presented with the opportunity to ask his close companion and confidant, she could no longer wait.  
Charles chuckled at her question. It was the one most people asked whenever they realized who he was.  
"I'm sorry. That was impertinent. I shouldn't have—"  
"No, it's quite all right. What have you heard about him?"  
"Only that he's excellent at the joust, that he's very religious and well learned, and that he is a most kind and generous king. And that he's…"  
"He's what?"  
"Very handsome, your grace," she finished, flushing pink at this.  
In short, she'd heard the standard things. Or at least those were the only things she was going to admit to having heard. He had to admit that he'd felt a twinge of jealousy at her admission that the king was handsome. Though their preferences in women were usually different, they had fought on occasion over a few women with Henry winning every time. Suddenly bringing her to court seemed like a very bad idea indeed.  
"Yes, Lady Jane, that is all quite true," he answered, thinking he'd add famously hot tempered, volatile, intemperate, lustful, and a terrible loser.  
"Is it also true that he believes the Queen is not his true wife because she is unable to give him a son?"  
He looked at her, "For someone who has not been to court, you are well advised as to its happenings," he commented.  
She blushed once more. Where this sudden boldness, this willingness to ask questions she had and always desired answers to had come from she couldn't say.  
Seeing her face, realizing she was afraid she had overstepped some invisible line, he assuaged her fears once more, "Also true, Lady Jane."  
There was more she wanted to ask, to say, to know but her fear of seeming too interested in the gossip of court held her back.  
"What else do you wish to ask, Lady Jane?"  
"Nothing, your grace, nothing."  
"Ah, but there is something. I can read it on your face."  
"Will he be successful in putting her aside?"  
"I do not know."  
"Do you hope he will be successful?" she asked quietly.  
It was a turning point. He knew it and so did she. If he answered honestly, he would be taking her into his confidence. If he did not, she would know and would never again believe a word he said.  
"I…I love the King, as a brother loves a brother but in this matter, I am unable to agree with his choice."  
They fell silent, neither knowing what more to say in that moment.  
"Your grace! Your grace!" a small voice called.  
"Yes, Master Henry?" he called back as they rounded the corner.  
"You see, your grace, I have found our way out!" he exclaimed in delight as he pointed to the opening that led to the house.  
"Well done, Henry, well done! You are a truly excellent navigator. And as your reward for getting this lady and I to safety, you may keep this token of my appreciation," he said, kneeling before Henry and removing his belt from the boy's body to hand him the scabbard and small knife contained within.  
Henry, wide eyed at such a spectacular gift, reached his hand out to touch it tentatively.  
"You must ask the Lady Jane for permission first," he said, nodding to where she stood.

"May I sister? I mean, may I Lady Jane?"

She nodded her assent and Henry took the scabbard carefully into his small hands.

"Thank you, your grace. Thank you ever so much," he said, running off to show Lady Hastings his reward.

"That was a kind and generous reward for such a small act," she noted, "He'll remember that forever."

"It was no small act, Lady Jane, I had been wandering in those hedges for a long while, completely lost. Besides, it gave me the tremendous pleasure of speaking more with you," he said softly.

She blushed once more, the color rising to her cheeks. It was becoming his favorite look of hers.

"Thank you, your grace. You have been most kind," she said, curtseying to him.

He nodded and turned towards the house once more.

"Your grace!" she called out after him and he turned back to her once more, "Thank you for last night."

"My lady?" he questioned, uncertain of her meaning.

"For taking Lady Thrope out of the way last night for William."

She had noticed after all, he thought. He nodded to her once more and was gone. Her heart fluttered in her chest, beating fast, thinking of his eyes, of his kindness to Henry. Something was happening and he, he was at the center of it all.


	6. Chapter 6

William stood before his looking glass as his groom helped him into his clothing for the evening. He smiled at his reflection and thought about how long it would be before he could see Eleanor, his Eleanor, once more. He wanted to hear her say his name again, wanted to feel her hand in his own, wanted simply to warm himself in the rays of sunshine which were her smile. Once ready, he began to make his way down to the great hall. Just before reaching the stairwell, he happened upon the Duke of Suffolk, standing in stony silence at an empty wall.  
"Your grace?" he asked, seemingly startling him from his reverie.  
"Ah, Lord William, ready for the joust tomorrow?" he asked.  
"Yes, your grace. I am most looking forward to it. The weather seems as though it will be fair."  
"Hmm. It does indeed."  
"Pardon me, your grace, but are you quite well?"  
"Yes, of course. Sorry. I've received a letter from court and it has distracted me from the enjoyable time I've been having here."  
"Is everything well with his majesty and the Queen?"  
"No. It would appear not."  
William waited in silence for the Duke to elaborate further.  
"The King has charged Cardinal Wolsley to look into the matter of whether or not his marriage to Queen Katharine is valid and legal."  
"On what grounds?"  
"The King is adamant that her majesty is unable to produce a male heir because of the affinity between her and the King," he said, sighing heavily.  
"But I thought all of these matters were resolved before they were married."  
"They were but his majesty is desperate to put aside the Queen so he is free to marry the Lady Anne Boleyn."  
The two men looked at each other, neither daring to say what they were both thinking which was that the King was a man of many moods who was unable to stay faithful to any woman for any length of time. To add insult to injury, Queen Katharine was not only a faithful and devoted wife but she was also beloved by the people for her piety, her grace, and her kind and gentle spirit.  
"Are you called back to court, then?"  
"No, fortunately. At least not yet."  
"Do you think you will be?"  
"At some point, yes," he said, sighing deeply.  
The ringing of a bell indicated that dinner was set to begin and they walked down the stairs and into the great hall. Once inside, William went immediately to Eleanor's side. She was wearing green this evening, another color that highlighted her eyes and her beautiful hair and skin.  
"Were you with the Duke?" she whispered to him as they sat to dinner.  
"Yes, why?"  
"I think he is interested in Jane."  
"Why ever would you think that?"  
"Do you see the way he looks at her?"  
William turned his attention to the dais where his sister sat next to their father, the Duke to his right. He watched as the Duke drank and spoke with his father and with the Earl seated to his right. But every so often he would catch the Duke glance in Jane's direction, a small smile playing across his lips. And, every few moments, Jane would return the glance with a smile of her own.  
"I think you may be correct in your assessment, my lady," he said.  
They shared a knowing smile and returned to dinner.  
After the meal, the music began and William reached for her hand, leading her out to the floor. He enjoyed watching her smile and dance, enjoyed the way she moved with a newfound confidence and joy. Each time their hands would touch as they moved from partner to partner, he would wrap his pointer about hers for just a moment longer than necessary, lingering longer than needed, saying everything he could not with just the lightest of touches.  
The song and dance came to an end and as she clapped for the musicians, she felt the light press of William's palm upon her own. She turned to him and his eyes, those beautiful eyes of grey, suggested a path from their present station out into the courtyard. She followed behind him until they were alone outside. It was chilly and she wondered why he had brought her here. Taking her hand once more, he led her down a narrow pathway and for a second she felt a brief flicker of fear. Where was he taking her? Eventually he stopped, reaching a small stone bench, where he led her and took her trembling fingers into his own.  
"Lad…Eleanor. My dearest Eleanor," he said, rubbing his palm over her fingers.  
"Yes, my lord?"  
"Say my name, Eleanor," he asked, voice low.  
"William," she said and he shivered. It was his favorite sound in the world. His name on her lips.  
"I have something for you," he said, reaching into the pocket of his coat, extracting a small silk pouch and handing it to her.  
"What is it my…William?"  
"Open it," he encouraged.  
She pulled back the ties which held it shut and opened the pouch, turning it upside down and holding it over her hand. A small item fell into her palm and she unfurled her fingers to look at what lay there. It was a ring of silver with roses etched around the band.  
"It's a poesy ring," she said with a smile.  
"Look inside," he encouraged.  
The inside of the band was engraved with the words " Omnia Vincit Amor."  
"Love conquers all," she translated.  
"Love conquers all," he said, voice soft and tender.  
It was an especially meaningful message for two people who had so desperately longed to be together but lived in a world that seemingly conspired to keep them apart. And now, at long last, they were finally able to be together.  
"William," she breathed, as he slipped the band onto her trembling hand.  
He brought his hand to her face, his thumb running softly over the soft skin of her cheek. Her eyes flickered down and then back up to his once more. He was looking at her, searching for any signs of fear or resistance and seeing none, he brought his mouth to hers.  
It was soft and gentle, a brush of his full lips against hers, a fleeting sensation of pressure and want and desire. He would have pulled back then but she moaned softly and his control snapped just a little, causing him to kiss her with a little more force than he had intended. When her mouth parted to the feel of his tongue running along her lower lip, he moaned and pulled back from her, gathering her into his arms and placing kisses on the top of her head.  
"Ellie, my dear, sweet, Ellie," he murmured into her hair, holding her to his chest.  
It was her first kiss; the first time a man had held and caressed her and yet, despite her ignorance of such things, she knew she wanted more, knew she wanted to kiss him again and again and again until her lips were raw and chapped from his kisses. And as he continued to hold her, stroking her hair and whispering her name, she realized how safe and loved, adored and worshipped she felt, and for the first time in many years, that all she had ever wanted was finally hers.

She wandered about the Hall, attempting to look interested in the dancing and music, stopping occasionally to speak with a guest or to whisper some message to the servants. The truth was that she was in search of the Duke of Suffolk who seemed to have disappeared from the festivities. She could not very well ask where he was without seeming overly familiar or too interested but after their walk in the gardens earlier, she longed to see him once more, to talk further, to simply be in his presence. As she turned a corner, she caught sight of her father along with several other guests including Eleanor's mother and some other ladies laughing as they gathered around a table. Entering the room, she realized that the Duke of Suffolk was in the large, high backed chair that faced the fireplace and across from him sat Eleanor's father, the Earl of Wiltshire. They were engaged in a game of cards and it was clear from the cheers and rounds of applause that the Duke was winning, and handily at that.  
The Earl finally called an end to the game, claiming he could no longer afford to compete with the Duke. Suffolk looked around the room, sizing up potential competitors. He'd already bested the Marquis as well as the Lady Wiltshire and several other nobles currently standing around the table. His eyes finally fell upon the Lady Jane who had appeared and now stood quietly in the corner of the room, watching the scene before her.  
"Lady Jane, do you play?" he asked.  
"What game, your grace?"  
"Piquet," he answered.  
"Not for quite some time, your grace," she responded.  
"Will you allow me to show you once more?"  
She nodded and the crowd gave way to permit her passage. Seated before him, she noticed her father behind the Duke's chair and he gave her a wink.  
"There are four suits; spades, clubs, diamonds, and hearts," he explained as he laid each one out upon the table, "Then there are four face cards; aces, kings, queens, and knaves."  
"A game of knaves and hearts, your grace?" she asked and when he looked up at her, she was straight faced but her eyes twinkled merrily.  
"Yes, my lady, a game of knaves and hearts," he responded, a small smile playing at his lips.  
Beautiful, kind, and quick witted, he thought to himself as he explained the rest of the game to her.  
They began to play and she won the first hand easily and he seemed a bit taken aback at how quickly she had picked up the game. She bested him again and again, hand after hand, and by the time the game reached its conclusion, she had won nearly all of his earlier winnings. He was baffled by this turn of events. He hardly ever lost and when he did, it was usually to the King. Now, he seemed to have lost to the beautiful young woman before him.  
"You play quite well for a beginner, my lady," he said with a grin as he pushed the rest of his winnings towards her.  
"Your grace, I never said that I was a beginner, merely that it had been some time since I had last played," she remarked.  
His eyes flashed up, looking into hers and she smiled. He realized then that he had not only lost but that he'd been tricked by the beauty sitting before him.  
"Well played, Lady Jane," he said, returning her grin with one of his own.  
She stood, gathering her winnings into the small purse he'd slid across the table to her.  
"Thank you, your grace," she said, curtseying to him before sweeping out of the room.  
Later that evening when he returned to his chambers there was a note upon the table and beside it was the small bag of coins she'd taken earlier.  
He read the note, a short missive written in particularly lovely script,  
Your grace,  
I believe this belongs to you. I'm sorry to have swindled it out of you earlier.  
Please accept its return with my humblest apologies.  
Lady Jane Howard

He smiled, holding the letter to his heart. He'd see to it that her rightful winnings made their way back to her.

The next morning the house was ablaze with activity. It was the day of the tournament and in addition to sword fights and general merriment, there would also be a joust. The Duke of Suffolk was rumored to be the man to best at the joust and odds were on William to win at sword fighting. Eleanor had stayed the night with Jane so that rather than having to return home she would be able to join in the morning's activities.  
They'd shared Jane's bed, laughing like young girls and sharing whispered confidences.  
Eleanor had shown her the ring William had given to her earlier in the garden and Jane could practically feel the excitement and joy which seemed to emanate from her pores.  
"May I tell you something, Jane?" she asked, her voice a hushed whisper.  
"Anything, Nora."  
"He…your brother…that is, William…well, he kissed me," she stumbled through her explanation.  
Despite how strange it was to think of her brother kissing Nora, she was also intrigued to know more.  
"And?"  
"And I want him to do it again and again. And soon," she said with a sigh, pressing her hand to her lips as if the mere touch were enough to hold William's caresses there.  
While Nora lay there, caught in her own thoughts, Jane wondered what it would be like to be kissed by a man. She'd never known the touch of a man, never felt lips pressed to her own, did not know what she would say or do in such a situation. And yet, she burned for the Duke to take her into his strong arms and kiss her. She found herself pressing the back of her hand where he'd kissed it the other day to her own mouth whenever she was alone.  
"Jane?"  
"Yes, Nora?"  
"What do you think of the Duke of Suffolk? And answer truthfully because I know you failed to be wholly honest with me the other day."  
"I find him to be…interesting."  
"And?"  
"And charming and engaging and kind and very, very handsome," she said in a rush of words that she could no longer hold back.  
"So you do admire him?" Nora asked, a small smile on her lips.  
"Yes, Nora. I admire him very much despite all the things we have heard. He seems to be quite the opposite of what has been described. I find myself unable to stop thinking of him," she admitted finally and it was as though a millstone had been lifted from her neck.  
"Dearest Jane," Nora said, grasping her friend's hand in her own, "Perhaps we can be married together."  
Jane laughed at this, "That's putting the horse before the cart, Nora. I only said I admire him. I have no idea how he feels or if he feels anything at all."  
"He does, Jane. He has to. I just know it."

Tents and benches had been set up beside the jousting field and a large spread of food was being set up by the servants. There were tents for the men to attire themselves and tents for the ladies to use should they require a reprieve from the sun or other elements. Jane had seen her father and brother earlier in the morning and Anne, Lucy, Thomas, and Henry had all been given permission to attend and they were presently settled in the box reserved especially for the Marquis and his family. Jane had gone to check on the arrangements for the luncheon that was to follow and as she made her way back she heard someone call her name. Turning, she came face to face with the Duke of Suffolk, attired in his sheet metal and armor.  
"My lady," he greeted, bowing slightly as she curtsied to him.  
"Would you do me the honor of allowing me to wear your favors?" he asked and she was taken aback. At tournaments such as this, men traditionally asked for the favors of women whom they knew and with whom they had a relationship. She had seen Eleanor give a handkerchief to William earlier, known it was embroidered with her initials, and she had watched as William placed it under his shirt, close to his heart.  
"I…I don't know that I have anything, your grace, I'm sorry," she replied.  
"But you do," he said and she raised her eyes to his, "May I?" he asked.  
She nodded and he raised a hand to her hair. She'd had a ribbon tied to the end of her plaited hair that morning. It was pale pink, matching the color of the gown she wore, and she felt her hair move softly as he undid the knot from the bottom of her plait. As he drew the ribbon forward, his fingers inadvertently brushed against the side of her neck and she released a soft, unintentional sigh.  
Hearing her reaction, he brushed his fingertips over the side of her neck once more, eliciting the same reaction.  
"Your grace, I…" she began before the trumpeter sounded his call.  
Taking the ribbon he took it and tucked it inside his shirt before turning and bowing to her once more.  
He left her standing there, breathless and dizzy at the feel of his fingers on her skin. She didn't think she could walk, wasn't sure if she'd be able to focus on anything other than the feel of his hands, didn't know if she could handle another moment of waiting for him to do or say something that would make this situation clear. She wandered back to her seat in a daze. Nora took one look at her face and smiled. Clearly something had just taken place between Jane and the Duke.  
As the competitors were called to begin, Henry turned to his sister and whispered, "There's the Duke of Suffolk, sister. He is my favorite knight."  
Jane smiled at the beaming face of her brother, "Do you want to know a secret? she asked.  
He nodded, brown curls bobbing in the sunlight.  
"He's my favorite as well," she whispered, their heads bent close together so no one else could hear.  
As she pulled back to watch the first tilt, she caught the eyes of the Duke upon her and Henry and she smiled at him, hoping it was a smile of encouragement and support. He nodded, returning the smile before lowering his visor. And when he easily won the tournament, he knew it was because he carried the best charm in the world near to his heart.


	7. Chapter 7

After the joust had concluded, the attentions of the crowd turned to the sword fighting where several of the nobles had entered and would compete until the final two victors faced off against each other. It was clear straightaway that William Howard, Earl of Devonshire, had the advantage. He was skilled on his feet, quick, and capable of handling his sword with ease and grace. By the end, it was down to William and Margaret Thrope's father, the Viscount Hartford. Jane, already on the edge of her seat after watching the Duke of Suffolk best his competition was now anxiously watching her brother. There was, perhaps, one person more nervous than she in that moment and she took Eleanor's hand in her own to keep her friend from twisting her hands to bloody shreds.  
The Viscount came out strong but he was unable to keep up with the youth, agility, and skill of William Howard who was able to beat him after only three rounds. After bowing to his opponent, William removed his shield and his chain metal, reaching into his shirt and removing Eleanor's handkerchief which he kissed. Jane squeezed her friend's hand and she felt Eleanor release a breath of air, whether in relief or in desire or both, she wasn't sure. He rushed across the field, bounded up the steps of the dais to where Eleanor sat and knelt before her.

"My lady, I give thanks for this token and for the kindness and affection with which it was given as it has allowed me victory on the field. I will have a mass said in your name, praising your virtue and goodness and giving thanks for making me victorious today," he said and there was a round of applause.  
Eleanor blushed at his effusiveness and he took her hands in his own, pressing a kiss to the tips of her fingers before rising to go and change out of his tournament attire. Eleanor placed her burning fingertips to her cheek both embarrassed and desirous of more all at once. Suddenly breathless and a little dizzy, she excused herself and rushed along the paths between the tents. She was just about to reach the turn off into the garden when she felt a strong pair of hands on her arms, pulling her around the corner. She struggled for a moment, a scream about to escape her throat and a hand, a familiar hand came over her mouth. She knew it was William before she could see his face, knew he meant her no harm. When she stopped struggling, he pressed her back against the ivy covered wall and placed his hands on either side of her head.  
"William," she whispered.  
"Ellie, I can't wait any longer," he said, pressing his mouth to hers.  
She sighed against his lips, against the urgency with which his mouth slanted over hers ever more persistently. It was futile to resist, futile to even pretend that she didn't desire this any more than he did so when his tongue ran over her bottom lip, she parted her lips to him and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. She tasted like cinnamon and it was a heady aphrodisiac. The longer he kissed her, the more in sync she became with his movements and soon his hands were tangled in her hair, and their tongues were dancing. She ran hers over his teeth, moaning when he bit at her lip and his hands came to cup her cheeks, deepening the kiss. The sound of horse's hooves nearby startled them and he abruptly pulled away from her, his eyes grey with desire. She was panting, breathless, torn between wanting to fling herself into his arms once more and wanting to show modesty and discretion. Anyone could be on the other side of the hedges; her father, his father, the chaplain of Grentham Hall. He could barely look at her because his hands were itching to run over her body, to lift her skirt and feel the softness of her skin, to rise higher, to…no, he couldn't allow himself to go down this path. He was already growing stiff within his hose and thinking about touching her in the most intimate of ways was not going to help him control his lust. And he wanted to be slow with her, wanted to take his time, wanted to worship her the way she deserved, the way her station demanded he treat her.  
When his eyes met hers, he took in her swollen lips, bruised from his kisses, took in the pink flush that covered her cheeks, heard her breathy sighs and had to look away once more. The fact that he was unable to meet her eyes distressed her.  
"Have I displeased you, my lord?" she asked.  
"No. No, of course not my sweet Ellie. I was just thinking about how beautiful you look right now and how very much I want to…" he began.  
"Want to what?" she asked.  
"Want to touch you," he answered, his voice low and husky in her ear.  
She sighed and her hand reached up to rest on his cheek. He turned his mouth, kissing her palm and she leaned forward, hoping he would kiss her once more. Instead he leaned his forehead against hers.  
"We can't, Ellie. But believe me, I want to. More than anything."  
"William," she said, her voice like silk and he had to physically pull himself away from her.  
"You're worth the wait, my love," he said, taking her hand and kissing it again.  
In the distance they could hear the bell ringing for luncheon and so he allowed her to leave before he did so they could arrive separately and not arouse suspicion. Before she turned the corner, she turned back around, blowing him a kiss which he pretended to swipe from the air and place against his heart.

At the luncheon, Jane looked up from her meal to find Eleanor and William deep in conversation and Henry was seated beside the Duke of Suffolk, chatting away animatedly. Not wanting the Duke to feel compelled to listen to the musings of a small boy, she rose from her seat and came to sit next to Henry.  
"Henry, you must remember that the Duke is a very important man and there are many men and women here who wish to speak with him," Jane scolded gently.  
"It's all right, Lady Jane. We were just discussing horses."  
"Horses, your grace?"  
"Yes, Henry tells me that you ride quite well."  
She flushed at the unexpected compliment.  
"Passably, your grace," she replied.  
"As passably as you play cards?" he asked teasingly, causing her to blush once more.  
"Yes, your grace."  
"Perhaps you might consent to join me for a ride tomorrow?" he asked.  
She considered it for a moment. She wanted to go. Desperately. But she was also aware of the reputation of the man asking her.  
"I've already asked your brother and Lady Eleanor if they would come along as well as your father and Lord and Lady Howard," he said, sensing her hesitation.  
Both disappointed and relieved that he had invited others, she smiled up at him.  
"Yes, your grace, I think I will join you all to ride out tomorrow."  
"Good. Now that we have that all settled, I promised Master Henry here that we would take a walk to the stables so he could show me his horse. Are you ready, young sir?" he asked, turning to Henry.  
"Yes, your grace."  
As he walked away with her brother, she found herself smiling at the unexpected kindness he continued to show to Henry. Perhaps there was more to Charles Brandon than was rumored.

That night, William Stafford, Earl of Devonshire and future Marquess of Hampshire lay in bed, mind restless and tormented. He finally had what he most desperately desired; Eleanor, and yet he was unable to show her how very much he wanted her, how much he burned for her presence. When she was with him it was as though the sun shone down upon him and when they were apart a melancholy overcame him. To have waited so long and to be so close now was practically insufferable. He groaned, rolling over in his bed and pounding a fist into his pillow, trying to get comfortable. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking of those minutes in the garden after the tournament. Bright eyes, deep sighs, soft lips, hands that touched his cheek and arm with a gentleness that left him yearning for more. He knew what he was about to do was a sin, knew he'd be forced to unburden himself to the Friar tomorrow morning before they went on their ride but it was the far better option given that the alternative was storming into her chambers and having her this very minute.  
He allowed his hand to roam down his taut stomach until he was gripping his member in his hand. As he stroked himself he thought of the feel of her skin beneath his fingers, thought about the way she sighed and moaned as his mouth moved over hers. He licked his palm, closing it around his now erect manhood and he began his ministrations once more. He thought of those eyes, those pools of blue that sparkled when she smiled and darkened to the color of storm clouds when he kissed or touched her. He imagined running his hand through her hair, the color of wheat, the silkiest of tresses that slid through his fingers. His hand moved faster and he dripped a little of his own seed from the tip of his erection. His mind wandered to the feel of her silky skin, imagining what it would be like to run his hands along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, dragging his hands from her ankle up to her knee over her thigh and to the very heart of her womanhood. He could feel how wet she'd be, knew how tight she'd be, knew she'd sheath him like a glove. His hand pumped vigorously, the other clutching the sheet as he envisioned that it was her breast, soft skin and pert nipple under his palm, touching, teasing, and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. The sound of her whimpers and moans of pleasure caused him to spend himself into his own hand, hard and fast. Spent, he lay back upon the pillows, breathing heavily, hand damp with his own exertions. Rolling over, he used the shirt he had earlier discarded upon the floor to wipe himself clean. Lying back once more, he yanked the covers back over his naked body, and crossed himself. God forgive him, he needed to possess this woman and he needed it to happen soon otherwise his soul would be condemned to hell for all eternity.

When Jane arrived to the chapel for her morning prayers she discovered not only her brother and father were present but also the Duke of Suffolk. It would appear this morning that the entire household seemed to have need for spiritual sustenance. She curtsied to all three men before taking her place near the front of the chapel. While the choir boys sang their hymns, she dared a glance in Suffolk's direction, and though he wasn't looking at her, a small smile graced his lips when he seemed to feel her eyes upon him.  
Already dressed for riding, she went to check with the kitchen staff on the luncheon that they were to enjoy later in the afternoon at a point selected by her father where grooms had already been dispatched to set up tents and tables in preparation of their arrival. Making her way to the stables she nearly ran into Eleanor whose hat was titled jauntily and whose hair was in a state of disarray that Jane knew was wholly unlike her. Her friend had been perfectly coiffed and attired when she had last seen her in the morning.  
"Whatever has happened, Nora?" she asked as her friend tried futilely to fix her hair and hat though her hands trembled violently.  
"Nothing, I am fine," she replied.  
Jane stilled her hands, tucking the loose strands of hair back into Nora's elaborate coiffure and righting her hat to its proper position.  
"You're trembling, dearest. Something must have happened."  
Eleanor looked at her oldest and dearest friend. She had to tell someone, had to relate her feelings to a person she knew and trusted, a person who would not make judgment when she revealed all that had taken place.  
"It's…Well…William seems to quite like kissing me," she said in a rush of words.  
Jane suppressed a smile. It was not surprising in the least that William had been unable to deny his passions for Eleanor, especially after having to hold each other at arms length for so long.  
"Do you like when he kisses you?" Jane asked.  
"Yes. Very much, probably more than I ought to."  
"I think if you love him and he loves you that it is perfectly appropriate to demonstrate that affection for one another," Jane soothed.  
"But what if I want more? What if I desire to know him completely? Is that appropriate?"

Uncertain what to say because it was both her brother and friend they were talking about as well as a subject matter on which she knew so little, she took Nora's hand and smiled at her.  
"I think, Nora, that what you feel for him is perfectly normal between two people who love each other. That said, I would caution you both to proceed carefully and not allow those feelings to overtake you to a point from which there is no return," Jane said sagely.  
"Jane, I would never…" Nora began to protest.  
"I know. I have no doubt that you are as pure as the driven snow."  
"And what of you, my lady? Has the Duke professed his undying love and loyalty to you?"

Jane shook her head. "He is a perfect gentleman."  
"Before I was waylaid, I was coming to tell you that I have it on good authority that he has spoken with your father."  
Jane turned, "Spoken with my father? About what?"  
"I don't know, Jane. My maid saw the Duke and your father entering his study yesterday after the tournament. That's all she could tell me."  
Her heart fluttered in her chest. What could they have spoken about? Were Eleanor's protestations that Suffolk was interested in her true or was he here on behalf of his majesty, sent to vet her and find a husband recommended by the King himself?

She was distractible and anxious on the ride, unable to keep pace with the remainder of the party which was unlike her. She was quite a good rider and normally able to hold her own with both William and her father but today, she felt ill. Her mind wandered to the earlier conversation with Eleanor. Suffolk had been unusually reserved with her that morning, barely sparing her a glance and riding ahead with Eleanor's parents and other members of the party. His inattention worried her. Perhaps his kindness and attention to her had an ulterior purpose; one that terrified her with its possibilities. She was unready to leave her home, unwilling to marry a man she had never met, aghast with fear at the thought of being sent to marry some noble in Wales, far from her family and friends. Her father had spent all of her life protecting her from the advances of men who sought only to further their own wealth or position and now, it seemed, that the King would do with her as he pleased, presumably to appease some courtier or noble who had gained his affection and who he wanted to reward for his loyalty to the realm.

She pulled off the road, dismounting her horse, and retching into a nearby bush. When she stood, patting her face with her handkerchief, she realized that she had been crying, her face was wet with tears. Leaning upon a tree, she sobbed at the prospect of a future over which she had no control. Knowing she was about to be sent away from the only home she had ever known, that she would probably die in childbirth without ever seeing her father or siblings again was all too much to bear.

"My lady?" one of the grooms questioned from the other side of the tree, "Are you well?"

"Yes," she called back, drying her face, straightening her dress and doing her best to appear calm.

She stepped out into the clearing, a small, weak, smile on her face.

"My lady, is there something I can do to help you?"

"Do you have any water? I seem to have a bit of a headache."

The groom handed her a draught of water and she drank several sips, attempting to rinse the bile from her mouth.

"Thank you," she said, returning the water to the young man, "Would you be kind enough to help me back onto my horse?"

After she was situated once more, she continued along the path the rest of the travelers had taken, the groom several lengths behind her. By the time she arrived at the tents that had been set up for the lunch, the rest of the party had already been seated. Not even gone yet and already forgotten, she thought to herself, which brought a fresh wave of tears that she was forced to wipe away once more. Making her way inside, she moved silently, coming to sit at the end of the table where a servant offered her some food and wine which she waved off. Her stomach was already upset and the idea of eating anything made her dizzy with nausea. Throughout the meal she could barely look up and when she did, it appeared to her that everyone was studiously avoiding her eye.

She begged to be allowed to return to the manor once lunch had been cleared away and the party went off to walk about the countryside. She had no desire to put on a happy face and pretend interest in discussion of the beauty of the countryside or in tomorrow evening's masque. The only thing she desired was to return home, lock herself away in her room, and cry until she had wrung herself dry. Her father, seeing how pale and tired she looked, quickly gave his assent, sending her on her way and promising to check in on her when they returned later that afternoon. The ride back seemed even longer than the ride there and by the time she reached the entrance of Grentham Hall, she was dizzy and faint. Her maid helped her out of her riding clothes and into bed, giving her a cool cloth for her head and shutting the curtains to keep the room dark and quiet. She fell into a restless sleep, tormented by thoughts of her home and family and nightmares about the fate she was certain was to be hers.

She awakened and asked if the rest of the riding party had returned, only to be told that nearly everyone, except her brother, father, and the Duke had returned over an hour ago. Her maid said that the Lady Eleanor had come to check on her and asked if she should send a message to let her ladyship know that she was ready to receive guests. When Jane shook her head no, and said that, in fact, she'd receive no visitors save her father, her maid raised her eyes in surprise.

Sometime later she found herself seated before the fireplace, staring out the window, her fingers resting on the edge of her chin as she sat in worried thought. Suddenly there seemed to be a flurry of activity at the door of her outer chamber. She could hear her maid speaking in low, polite tones and then the sound of a man's voice, low at first and then growing louder the more he was denied. A moment later the door burst open and the Duke of Suffolk appeared, her maid behind him.

"Your grace," she greeted and he bowed to her.

"Might I speak to you alone, Lady Jane?" he asked and despite the fact that the room seemed to feel as though it was spinning, she nodded her assent and dismissed her maid. They eyed each other for several long moments, neither speaking and finally she sat back in her chair once more.

"You left the party so quickly this afternoon that I didn't have a chance to speak with you. Are you well?" he asked gently.

"I fear I have a headache, your grace. It made me quite unwell."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Have you been well attended here? Had a chance to rest?"

"Yes, your grace."

"My lady, I've come to speak with you about something important."

She released a shaky breath. So this is how her sentence was to be pronounced, by the Duke of Suffolk, not even by her father or brother to lessen the blow.

"Lady Jane…Jane…I've come to ask if you would consent to allowing me to pay court to you," he said, blue eyes meeting her brown ones.

Her face changed, crumpled, and she sobbed, a sound so achingly heartbreaking that he came to kneel before her, taking her hands in his own. It wasn't quite the reaction he had anticipated and he had no idea what was causing her such distress but he wanted to do anything to ease her anguish.

"Dearest Jane, whatever is the matter?" he asked and she only sobbed harder.

Unable to resist, he pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair as she wept against his coat. It took her several minutes to recover herself, to regain her composure and when she had finally stopped crying and was able to take a breath, she righted herself and looked at him, kneeling before her. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, stifling her laugh and then it bubbled over until she was shaking with the force of her own laughter.

"Do you find my proposal amusing, my lady?" he asked seriously, jaw twitching in disappointment and offense.

"Your grace, I am not laughing at you," she assured, seeing the look of affront on his face, "I am laughing at myself. I am the most ridiculous woman who has ever lived," she informed him.

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"Eleanor told me this morning that you had spoken with my father yesterday after the tournament and when you didn't speak to me this morning or ride beside me or offer to walk with me after lunch, I assumed it was because you had been sent by the King, to see if I would make an eligible match for some noble or courtier he wished to reward."

"You thought what?" he asked in shock.

"I thought you had been so kind to me because you were sizing me up for another."

He laughed at this, drawing her into his arms once more.

"I can't believe you thought I was showing you attention on the behalf of someone else," he said against her hair.

"I thought you'd come to tell me that you were taking me away from my family and sending me to Wales."

"Wales? Why Wales of all places?"

"Because it's furthest from my family and friends and my happy life here," she answered and he pulled back to look at her.

"I would never allow you to be taken from your family, Jane. You have my solemn promise."

She nodded and smiled at him.

"You have not answered my question, sweetheart," he said, taking her hand in his.

"Yes, your grace. My answer is yes. But why did it take you so long to ask?"

"It would appear that my reputation has preceded me. Your father wanted time to think it over, to assure himself that I didn't intend to hurt or mistreat you. And he wanted to be sure that you would say yes."

"But how…"

"William. William ultimately is the one who assured him that you would consent."

She gave a silent prayer of thanks for her brother and his great love for her.

"I stayed away today because I didn't have his answer and I couldn't bear the thought of being so near and not knowing whether I would be given his permission or no."

"And now?"

"Now, I wondered if you might accompany for a walk in the gardens? The walk I was very much hoping to take with you this afternoon after the ride."

"I would be delighted, your grace," she said.

"Then I will meet you in the great hall when you are ready?" he asked.

She nodded and he kissed her hand before rising and leaving the room. Summoning her maid, she dressed quickly in a warm cloak and gloves, then bounded down the stairs to the Hall. When she entered the room, he turned from where he had been standing near the fire and smiled at her. That smile alone would be her undoing.

"Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.

They walked in companionable silence through the seemingly endless twists and turns of the gardens until they came to a small grove of trees.

"These trees are so beautiful in the spring and summer," she said.

"What are they?" he asked.

"These are dogwood, these are magnolias, and these are cherry blossoms," she replied, pointing out each tree, "You can't imagine how beautiful they all smell in bloom. This might be my favorite place in all the garden," she said.

"I'll have a grove planted this spring," he said with a smile, caught up in her beauty and her enthusiasm for such a small thing.

"Your grace, that is too generous," she said.

"Jane, when we're alone, do you think you might be persuaded to call me by name?" he asked.

"Yes, your…Charles," she said, blushing at the intimate familiarity that she was now allowed.

He took her hands, drawing her nearer to him and she shivered at his touch.

"Are you cold, sweetheart?" he asked, pulling her into his arms and wrapping his cloak around her, bodies pressed against each other.

She shook her head against his chest. She was the exact opposite of cold at this moment. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, could feel the hard planes of his chest against hers. Her fingers rested softly against his collarbone and she wanted to allow them to wander, to explore, to touch and feel, and learn. Instead she leaned against him, letting his warm, solid form calm her. It had been a tense, nerve wrecking day and now that she knew the real reason for his distance, all she could feel was relief and a sense of excitement at what was in store.

They stood this way for long minutes as he breathed in the scent of her hair, let the feeling of her fingers against his skin course through his body. Her body pressed to his was causing the blood to course through his body, pumping furiously. He knew he'd have to relinquish his hold on her in a few moments otherwise she would feel the evidence of his desire and he knew he needed to be slow and gentle with her, with the delicate flower he so desperately craved. The moment he'd laid eyes upon her days earlier he'd known he had to have her. He felt, for the first time, something more powerful than lust or a desire to advance his position. He felt the urge to protect her, to cherish her, to love and adore her above all others. And that was a first for Charles Brandon.

Her fingers began to roam, up his neck, to his throat, and then to trace over his stubbled jawline. They reached the cleft of his chin, gently drawing a line there.

"Jane," he whispered, voice deep, laced with desire, "I want to kiss you."

"Please, Charles," she said and it was all the encouragement he needed.

His hands moved to her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. He looked at her for reassurance, needing to be sure that she wanted this as much as he did.

"My Jane, my sweetheart," he breathed a moment before his lips brushed over hers.

It was the most thrilling moment of her life. His soft lips were moving over hers, his hands were anchoring her in place, the gentle scrape of his facial hair rubbed over her tender skin and she knew there'd be marks in his wake but she didn't care. All she wanted was more; more of his caresses and sweet words, more of his kisses, more of him. He was gentle, allowing her to set the pace, letting her be the one to press her mouth to his when he pulled away slightly, letting her be the one to run her tongue over his bottom lip. He was swallowing her breathy sighs and moans with his own mouth and he moved one hand from her face to her hip, drawing her flush to him. About to bring his mouth to hers once more, he heard the faint cry of someone calling his name as though from a distance. The cries grew louder and he pulled himself away from her, reluctantly and with great force.

"Here! I'm here!" he cried out.

A groom, dressed in the livery of the King ran into the grove.

"Your grace," the man said, bowing before him and handing him a letter.

Breaking the seal, he opened the creamy paper, scanning it quickly.

"Tell your master I'll leave at dawn," he said, dispatching the groom.

He turned back to her questioning eyes.

"I've been summoned back to court. Wolsey has convened a court to hear the King's arguments for why his marriage should be dissolved. The King has requested I return to keep him in good spirits."

"Must you go?"

"Of course I must. It's the King and my oldest friend. Regardless of how I feel about this, I must submit to his command."

She nodded.

"Fear not, sweetheart. I'll write you everyday and return as soon as I am able. I can't bear the thought of being apart from you longer than necessary," he said, kissing the back of her hand and turning to go.

She grabbed his hand tightly, drawing him back to her once more and standing on her tiptoes to brush her mouth over his once more before letting him go.

"Write to me, my love," she said and he smiled and turned to go.

Alone once more, she pressed her fingers to her lips, willing the feel of his mouth on hers to linger and remain. It was all she would have of him in the days that lay ahead.


	8. Chapter 8

_My dearest Jane,  
I hope this letter finds you well. I am still at his majesty's court and busily engaged with the work of the council the King and Cardinal Wolsey have summoned to investigate the great matter of his marriage. I am bereft without your presence which had become so much a part of what I looked forward to upon arising each day while at Grentham Hall. I hope your father, William, your sisters and brothers, and young Henry are all well. I read your last letter with a great deal of amusement as you detailed the exploits of our young navigator and his loyal and trusted servant, Catallus.  
I am hopeful that the court will adjourn for the Christmas season and I will be able to return to Henham Park where I wish to host you and your family for the Christmas and Twelfth Night celebrations. I most fervently desire to show you all that will be yours in due time. I have written to your father, extending the same invitation and I pray that you will urge him to accept so that my home and my heart may once more be filled with the joy of having you near and of basking in the familial love shared between all of you.  
I miss you, my sweetheart and long to hold you in my arms once more. I pray to be returned to you and your kind and generous heart soon. While we are apart, I hope you will accept this token of my unwavering fidelity and devotion and of my consciousness of your own devotion to our Lady.  
Until we are together again, I remain your loving and true servant.  
Charles Brandon_

She held the letter against her heart as her other hand opened the velvet pouch that had arrived with the letter. Inside was a lavish, mother of pearl rosary. For a moment she considered sending it back but she knew he would consider this offensive and that he would only hold onto it to give it to her in person. He had left the morning after declaring his intentions though she had risen early enough to see him off. There had been a long, lingering kiss in the doorway while her father and William had pretended to not look and when he'd pulled away, he had caressed her cheek softly and mounted his horse with a smile in her direction. That had been three weeks ago, nearly four now, and each day seemed to pass more slowly than the one before. She wrote to him every day, sharing stories about the happenings at Grentham, writing about Henry and his studies, about Anne and Lucy, about William and Eleanor. She poured out her heart to him, easily expressing the feelings she had but found difficult to say when he was standing before her. She occupied herself with overseeing the house, supervising her younger siblings and their studies, helping Eleanor choose items for her dowry and using the few hours of free time she had to ride or read or pray. She prayed most especially that she would be reunited with him soon. Adding the latest letter to the stack she kept in a nearby chest, she brought her fingertips to her lips, running them lightly over them, trying to imagine the feel of his mouth pressed to hers. After a few moments, she sighed deeply. Nothing would ever be as sufficient as his actual presence.

They had managed to sneak off to the library, empty now as the last lingering rays of the sun shone through the windows. Aside from Jane and occasionally his father, no one much made use of this room. He locked the door behind them, grabbing her by the waist and walking her backwards until her knees bumped a nearby settee. She sat and he came to kneel before her, his hands already frantic at the ties at the back of her dress.  
"I hate these ribbons," he muttered in annoyance when yet another tangled in his hand. He would have loved to rip them to shreds right then and there but he was conscious that they not only needed to be careful but that she also needed to be able to leave the room fully and completely attired.  
Stilling his hands, she undid the knot he had created and slipped off her kirtle, exposing the naked upper half of her body to his penetrating gaze. He drew her forward, kissing her hard, his mouth frantic and persistent against her own. In the last weeks their kisses had grown more comfortable, more familiar, more deeply passionate. He'd learned that she liked when he was a little forceful with her and she knew that he enjoyed when she ran her tongue over his full lower lip, gently sucking it into her mouth. He knew just where to kiss her neck to make her moan and pant and she loved the sounds he made when she gripped his hair in her hands, tugging on it and then gently stroking it back into place. His hands found her full, firm breasts, cupping them in his own, running his thumbs over her taut nipples. She whimpered at his touch, arching her back, pressing more of herself into his hands. He kissed her neck, licking the spot where her neck and shoulder met and biting softly. She gasped in pleasure, a shuddering breath escaping her lips. His mouth moved over her soft skin, down her shoulder, over her collarbone until he took a pert breast into his warm mouth.  
"William," she gasped as his tongue drew circles around her erect nipple whilst his other hand teased and stroked her other breast. Her hands tangled in his short locks, tugging at him, urging him to do more, to give her more, to love her more. After a few minutes he switched sides, suckling at her left breast while his hand lavished the right with further attention.  
Her gasps and moans, the way she pulled at his hair all told him she wanted, nay, needed more. They had been pushing boundaries for weeks now, each time they were alone, going further, learning more, exploring all that had once been denied them. He brought his mouth back to hers, kissing her hard, tongues dancing in a now familiar rhythm. His hands fell to his sides and he considered what his next move should be. He burned to lift her skirts, to slide his hand up the creamy expanse of her skin but he didn't want to rush her, didn't want her to feel that she had to submit to something she wasn't ready for. He desired her with a passion and force that left him panting and often sent him to bed with images of her semi-naked form dancing in his head. He'd been to confession more in the last weeks than ever before in his life and he was beginning to feel like there was something wrong with him.  
He'd do his penance, resolving to put his desire for self-pleasure aside but every time they were alone, every time he touched her or kissed her, he'd be unable to stop his hands from wandering and finding the release he needed but could not yet find with her.  
"Please, my love, please," she pled, her voice yearning and when she took his hand and brought it to the hem of her gown, he looked at her questioningly, looking for signs of resistance or fear. Seeing none, he lifted the full skirt, sliding his hand from her ankle, up her calf, slowly, slowly stroking over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He paused in his wanderings to look at her, back arched, breasts high, her fingers grabbing for purchase against the backside of the settee, lips slightly parted, eyes closed in anticipation. Her breathing was slow and ragged and with each drag of his fingers closer and closer to her core her breath would stop for a long moment and resume once more only when he moved his hand.  
"Ellie, I want to…I'm going to…Will you let me touch you…there?" he asked.  
"Yes, dearest. Yes. Please, William," she pled.  
His fingers found her, wet and slick with arousal. He was gentle, cupping her in his palm and rubbing the pad of his hand over her in small circular motions. Her hips moved in time with his ministrations and she was mewling, keening his name. He slid a finger into her hot, tight passage, going only up to his first knuckle, watching as her body adjusted to this newest feeling. When her hips began to move again, he sunk a little deeper and she cried out, whether in pain or pleasure he wasn't sure.  
"More," she said softly, wrapping her hand around his wrist and forcibly taking more of his finger inside of herself.  
He stroked her, prodded at her body, sought the spot he knew would do the most good and as his finger found what he was searching for the wriggling of the door handle startled him from his task. He withdrew his hand quickly, causing her to groan in frustration. What he was doing had felt so good. She knew she was behaving as wantonly as a prostitute but William didn't seem to mind and when he touched her it was as though he was setting her on fire. She wondered if it could ever be dampened or tamed. He kissed the tops of each of her breasts once more and she moaned softly at the loving caress. Hearing the fumbling of keys at the door, he helped her into her kirtle once more and hid her behind a set of large, dark, velvet curtains as he went to the door.  
"Oh, begging your pardon, my lord," a maid greeted, "I was about to clean the room. I didn't realize anyone was in here."  
"No, no, that's quite all right. I was just looking for a book. Will you give me another few minutes?" he asked.  
"Yes, my lord," she responded, curtseying and rushing off to her next task.

When she was safely around the corner, he whispered for Eleanor to come out of her hiding place. With a parting kiss and a brief squeeze of her breast through the fabric of her clothing, he sent her into the empty hall, remaining behind in the library. He waited a few minutes, making a show of looking for a book in case the maid should return sooner than expected. Finally, when he was sure that no one else was coming, he aribitraily picked a book off one of the shelves and made his way back to the empty hallway. As he strode towards his chambers, he ran into the same maid from earlier, gave a nod of his head and continued on his way. Closing the door to his sitting room, he leaned back against the door. They had narrowly escaped being caught once again. He needed to marry her and soon. Glancing down at the book in his hand, he began to laugh. Of all the choices available to him, he had managed to select _The Confessions of St. Augustine_. Well, he thought to himself, no one could better understand the lure of the female sex than St. Augustine.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Henham Park is indeed the family estate of the Duke of Suffolk. As a reminder, this story is meant to be in keeping with the historical fiction storytelling of the Showtime Original Series, "The Tudors." It likely in no way accurately reflects societal norms or true relationships between couples of the day.**_

After weeks apart, weeks of longing and yearning, weeks spent corresponding by letter and carefully sharing what was happening in their lives for fear of someone else seeing the letter or interpreting something innocent in a dangerous way, they were finally to be reunited for the Christmas season at his country estate, Henham Park. As promised, he had extended the invitation to her entire family, as well as to Eleanor.  
Henham Park had come to him when he was invested as Duke of Suffolk. In addition to his London townhome, the Park, along with several hundred acres of land in the North had all become his. Henham Park held a massive estate, gardens which rivaled those of his majesty, stables, a chapel, and many, many acres of land; good for hunting, fishing, and all kinds of sport. When he had been married to Mary, she had done some renovations, had the estate updated and changed to reflect not only his status as a married man but also as someone of wealth, prestige, and power. After she died, he'd changed only her chambers, eradicating any memory of her and the short, tumultuous, and less than happy time they had shared together. Now, he wanted to share it all with Jane; wanted to show her around, to discover what she liked, what she'd want to change, what she would do to make it her home.

He'd purchased several, lavish Christmas presents for her. Ones that he was certain she would not only like but that also demonstrated his attention to the things he knew she liked or the things he had surmised were of interest to her from their letters. He had gifts for everyone in her family, all the way down to young Henry, who he felt an especial affection for. Perhaps it was because he reminded Charles so much of the young boy he had once known before age and the worry and strain of ruling a kingdom had taken its toll. Perhaps it was because Henry was the one person who failed to care about his title or his connections and simply desired to be in his presence because he was boy who enjoyed the attention of an older man. Perhaps, and most likely, it was because of Jane's obvious affection for her brother. The few times he'd spent with them had allowed him a glimpse of what she'd be like as a mother; gentle and kind, loving and firm, and wholly devoted.  
He watched from the window as the rider of their house approached and then a moment later his head groom was announcing the pending rival of the Marquess and his family, accompanied by the Lady Eleanor Howard. He waited outside as the party arrived over the hill. The Marquess and Earl of Devonshire were at the front, followed by Thomas, and a series of grooms. In the carriages Lucy, Anne, Henry and his governess followed by Jane and Eleanor in another. He greeted the Marquess and Earl heartily as they dismounted and were ushered inside by the servants. The other children followed their father, greeting the Duke, their future brother in law, warmly. Henry was most delighted to see him. He bowed and greeted him and then smiled impishly.  
"Might we go sledding later, your grace?" he asked.  
"I think that could be arranged," he replied, tousling the boy's hair.  
He greeted Eleanor warmly and then Jane, his beautiful, darling Jane was emerging from the carriage and into his waiting arms. He held her for several long moments, neither one of them saying a word and then as if she remembered herself, she curtsied to him, "Your grace," she greeted softly.  
"My lady."  
He pulled her back into his arms, breathing her in, that familiar scent of roses he had missed for these many weeks.  
"Oh, Jane, how I have missed you," he whispered against her hair.  
"I've missed you too, your grace…I mean, Charles."  
He smiled. He wondered how long it would take for her to become comfortable with calling him Charles all the time.  
Taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm, he led her into the house which had been beautifully decorated for the season. The stairwells were covered with bowers of seasonal flowers, soft candlelight flickered off the floors and ceilings.  
"Charles, it's beautiful," she breathed.  
"It's all for you, my love."  
"Thank you. And thank you for inviting us here. I'm so glad to be with you once more."  
"And I with you, Jane. Nothing makes me happier than having you here with me."  
He led her on a tour of the house, introducing her to servants, showing her all the rooms and places of the house. "Soon, my love, all this will be yours," he said. He could tell she was overwhelmed despite the opulence and grandeur of her own home. Reaching the second floor, he pointed to a door, "Those are my chambers," he said and he felt her tremble slightly beside him. "And these will be yours when we're married," he said, pushing open the door to the entry chamber. It was largely empty save for a few chairs and a table, purposely done so that she might consider what she wished to do with the rooms while she was here. He stood in the room while she walked about, looking out the windows onto the gardens, stepping over the threshold into her private chamber. There was no bed, no furniture at all and the windows overlooked the lake, frozen over and covered in snow. It was beautiful; large and airy. A door at the far end of the room caught her attention and she turned to him, "Where does that lead?" she asked.  
He cleared his throat, "To my room," he replied and she sighed.  
"But I thought…"  
"You thought what, dearest?"  
"That you'd want…no, expect…well, I had hoped that we might share a bed," she said, her voice growing softer and softer with each word, blushing and looking down at the floor.  
It was, in fact, what he had hoped himself but the common practice of the day was for husbands and wives to have their own chambers. He and Mary had kept separate apartments, especially at the end when they spent hardly any time together.  
"But where will you sleep when you grow angry with me?" he teased, tilting her head up so he could look at her.  
"I don't intend to ever be angry with you," she replied, brown eyes meeting those soft blue ones of his, stealing her breath and causing her heart to beat faster.  
"Jane, you should know that no matter how hard I try, I will probably make you angry on occasion and, in fact, may even make you sad."  
"So, we should sleep apart because I might be angry or you might make me sad?"  
He laughed. "Sweetheart, I want to sleep with you every night but for the sake of appearances and in the event that you ever do fall angry with me, you should consider how you'd like to have these rooms arranged."  
All this discussion of rooms and sleeping and sharing a bed had made her a little bold so when she crossed the room, closing the space between them and putting her hands on either side of his face, he was a little surprised.  
"I'd like to kiss you," she said, fingertips stroking lightly over the stubble of his face.  
Her thumbs pressed into the indentation of his chin and she leaned up to brush her mouth over his. It was a slow, chaste kiss, one that hinted at everything she wanted but was too shy and hesitant to ask for. When she bit his lip, he pulled back to look at her, eyes the color of storm clouds. He saw no resistance in those deep pools of hers, no fear, not even a trace of hesitation. This had been the hardest part of the King's imposed separation; not being able to hold or touch her. There had been more than one woman who had put herself in his way while he was at court. In the old days, he would have jumped at the chance to lie with any of them but now, knowing Jane, knowing she was to be his, he found himself unable to stomach the idea of touching anyone other than her.  
He brought his mouth to hers, harder, more forcefully and she parted her lips to him. The kiss was fevered, frenzied, and his hands sought a place; her hips, her shoulders, her throat, finally coming to rest on the sides of her face. He kissed her again and again, pulling her flush against him, feeling her chest heave against his. He could feel his control beginning to slip, could feel himself beginning to harden and he pulled away from her, holding her at arms length, both of them panting with unfulfilled want.  
"Your grace, did I…" she began, fearing she had overstepped.  
"No. No, Jane. Heavens no. I want you, I desire you above all others but I want you to be ready. I want you to know how much I love you before you let me love you like that."  
"But I do…and I…"  
"Please, Jane. Please let me prove myself worthy of you. I don't think I could bear it if you thought I wanted you only for this," he said, his voice raw and vulnerable.  
"Charles, I don't think that and my love, you are more than worthy of me," she soothed, coming to wrap her arms around his waist.  
"I love you and I want you; most desperately. But I want to wait. For you…and for me. Can you understand that?" he asked.  
She nodded against his chest. She loved him for this, loved that he would wait, loved that he wanted her to be sure, to be able to come to him willingly and freely.  
"And now that I've stolen you away for so long and I'm sure we've set the house ablaze with gossip, I'll return you to your family and show you to your rooms."  
"Just one more kiss before you do," she asked.  
Grinning, he turned back to her, kissing her forehead, her nose, and finally, capturing her mouth beneath his once more.  
God, she would be the death of him.

She sat beside him at dinner, practically the lady of the house if only in practice and not yet in name. Eleanor had teasingly arrived to her rooms before dinner and referred to her as the Duchess of Suffolk, causing Jane to flush in embarrassment. She often forgot that in gaining a husband, she was also gaining a substantial title, one that would be her children's heritage as well. From his place she saw her father watching them. After all had been settled between them, he had called Jane to his study and offered his blessing, tempered only with the notice that he would be carefully watching the Duke and if he heard even the faintest hint of him committing any act of impropriety, the blessing he had given at William's urging would be rescinded. It was hard enough for him to face the inevitable reality of losing his beloved daughter but he was unable to stomach the idea of losing her to someone who claimed to love her but was incapable of being faithful. For the years he had been away from court he was still remarkably aware of the gossip. He'd heard stories of the young Brandon's indiscretions and reckless behavior and though he admired the boy for his strength, courage, and loyalty to the King, he frowned down upon his treatment of the fairer sex. Though he had certainly not been an angel in his youth, once he had married the beautiful Catherine Gordon, he'd never looked elsewhere again. He knew he was a rare man in this age, knew that many men of his status often took mistresses when their wives were pregnant or when the novelty of a new marriage began to wane and younger and more beautiful women began to circle about. He'd raised his own sons to believe that women, far from being the inferior sex, were actually the far superior sex, meant to be worshipped and adored and cherished.  
He'd been reluctant to consent to the Duke's request; feared that it was for all the wrong reasons, worried that his daughter would say yes only out of a sense of obligation or duty and more than anything he desired that all of his girls, but most especially his Jane, make matches for love. It was only William's insistence that Jane most certainly had feelings for the Duke that had encouraged him to give his blessing. Now, watching his daughter sit next to the Duke, looking every bit the Duchess she would be, he knew he had made a wise choice.  
There was dancing after dinner and after a prolonged farewell in the hallway, she had retired to her chambers for the night. She awakened the next morning to the sound of raucous laughter that rang throughout the walls of her room. Arising from her warm bed, she went to the window, looking out upon the hills and fields of newly fallen snow and seeing her brothers, Eleanor, younger sisters, and the Duke sledding down a nearby hill. She had clearly slept far longer than she had intended, likely because being with him once more had allowed her to rest easier than she had in many weeks. Summoning her maid, she dressed quickly, rushing out to join the revelry. Henry spied her first, "Janey! Come sledding," he called out to her.  
"Yes, my lady, come join us!" the Duke shouted from his position atop the hill.  
Lifting her skirts, she traipsed up the hill until they were side by side. She'd picked up a handful of snow on the way and when he turned to look the other way, she promptly smashed it upon his head. He gasped and spluttered as the ice ran down his face and neck. He turned to find her laughing, her glove pressed to her mouth. "You little minx," he said, grabbing her by the waist and tickling her.  
"Charles. Stop, Charles. Stop," she protested, gasping for air and wriggling beneath his hands.  
"Do you relent?" he asked.  
"No, "she answered.  
"No?" he asked, beginning his assault once more. His foot slipped as he moved and they tumbled to the ground and he cushioned her fall with his body. She was astride him now, laying atop his strong, firm body and he had a fleeting glimpse of her like this, naked and writhing above him, his name on her lips.  
"Jane," he whispered.  
She was about to respond when Henry ran over.

"Are you making babies?" he asked innocently.  
Jane gasped in embarrassment, "Henry! We never, ever ask questions like that. It is below your station," she scolded, blushing.  
Charles chuckled beneath her and she moved to slide off of him. He reached for her hand, drawing her to her feet.  
"Jane and I slipped on a patch of ice and I caught her to keep from falling," he explained to Henry, brushing off his pants.  
"Oh," he said, shrugging.  
"But Henry, your sister is right, you should never ask questions such as that," he chided the boy gently.  
Henry's face fell at the reprimand, despite the gentleness with which it had been given.  
"I'm sorry, your grace," he said, bowing a little.  
"It's all right, lad. Go sled. I'll be right there," he said, smiling at the boy, an offer of forgiveness which was gratefully accepted.  
Before he left to chase after Henry once more, he turned back to her, taking her hand in his. He drew her to his side and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I do."  
"You do what, my lord?"  
"Want to make babies with you. Very, very much."  
She flushed at this. It was among the most intimate things he had ever said to her and her heart fluttered fast in her chest. He pressed a kiss to her gloved hand and with a final, parting smile was gone to chase after Henry once more.

His words lingered in her ear throughout the remainder of the day and she was hardly able to look at him without blushing profusely. They'd had a quiet dinner, followed by a performance by a traveling minstrel and several area musicians who performed for them.  
She retired well after midnight and despite the fire, it was cold in her room and she burrowed under the covers, attempting to warm herself. She fell into a restless sleep, awakening about an hour later, a hand at her throat and a scream dying on her lips. She'd had a nightmare; a terrible dream that he'd been sent to battle by the King and been cut down on the battlefield. It was so vivid, so real, that she was trembling with fear.  
Checking that her maids were sleeping, she took her robe from the foot of the bed and on quiet feet made her way to his apartments. A groom was asleep outside his door so she tip toed into the rooms that would one day be hers and unfastened the latch that led from her room to his. The fire was roaring here and he was sitting before it in his robe, head bowed, reading something on his lap.  
"Charles," she whispered and his head whipped up.  
"What are you doing here?" he asked, beginning to rise from his chair but she beckoned him back down and came across the room.  
"I had a nightmare," she said, eyes welling with tears, "And I needed to reassure myself that you were safe."  
"I'm fine, my love," he said, drawing her onto his lap, "What was the dream about?"  
She told him, in detail, what had her so upset and he stroked her hair gently.  
"Nothing is going to happen to me, Jane. I'm right here. There are no battles to be fought, no fights you need to worry about."  
She nodded against his chest.  
"Will you let me stay here and…will you hold me?" she asked, "Just until I fall asleep?"  
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to do the gentlemanly thing and return her to her own chambers but she was already here and it was already late and she was clearly still upset and anxious so he nodded. He'd stay until she had fallen asleep and then sleep in his entry chamber in one of the chairs. He walked with her to the bed, pulling back the covers and allowing her to crawl inside before he followed behind. She lay awkwardly, uncertain where to place her head or body, waiting for a cue from him.  
"Here," he said, patting a pillow and helping her to her side so he could wrap an arm over her waist.  
Despite being fully clothed, she could feel his heart beating in his chest, could feel the heat from his big, strong body. Without realizing the reaction it would cause, she wiggled her backside back against him and he groaned low in her ear.  
"Are you all right?" she asked.  
"Quite. But you need to stay still otherwise I won't be able to keep my promises from earlier, sweetheart."  
He held her as she lay perfectly still and when he heard her breathing even out, he gently unwrapped his arm from her waist and moved away from her. He placed a gentle kiss to her temple, wrapping the sheets and blankets tightly around her.  
In the outer chamber he paced for a few minutes before returning to his own chambers once more. He pulled the chairs before the fire closer together, removing a blanket from the end of the bed and wrapping it around himself. He watched as she slept, assuring himself that she was all right, and sometime later, he dozed off, his eyes on her sleeping form.


	10. Chapter 10

When she awoke the next morning, it was still dark and the fire, so warm last night, had died, leaving the room chilled. She sat up, looking for him, finding him curled up in a nearby chair, head tilted back, covers slipping from around his shoulders. She crossed the room, placing a hand to his cheek, causing him to stir slightly.

"Charles," she whispered and his eyes flickered open and shut, "Sweetheart," she said again and his eyes opened.  
"What's wrong? Are you all right? Did something happen?" he asked, sitting upright in his chair.  
"Shhh, everything is well. I should go back to my chambers though otherwise people will talk."  
He ran a hand over his eyes, attempting to wake himself. The clock on the fireplace showed that it was nearly 4:30. They'd hardly slept at all, three hours at the most, and now she was sneaking away like a thief in the night. He rose, pulling her close.  
"Did you at least get a little rest?" he asked.  
She nodded, "A little. Thank you for letting me stay," she said softly against his robe.  
"You're welcome," he said, tilting her chin back and brushing his mouth over hers, "But now we should get you back."  
They walked hand in hand through his room into the empty adjoining chambers. He peered into the hall, checking that the groom was still asleep and ushering her into the hall. Before she left, he gave her one final, parting kiss and urged her to get some sleep and not worry about the day, promising her that he'd see her later that afternoon. Once he was sure she was gone, he practically fell back into his bed, wrapping the covers around himself, placing his head upon the pillow where she'd slept and letting himself breathe in her scent, still permeating his sheets. He fell asleep in moments, visions of her dancing in his head.

It was well after noon when she finally awakened and after a long bath she felt enormously better. The fitful night's sleep, combined with the cold, the long journey of two days earlier, the exertions of the day before, and the excitement of being reunited had left her weary. Lying in the copper tub, warm, steamy water swirling around her, she thought about the previous night; about lying beside him in bed, about the way he had held her close, his arm anchoring her to him. It had been strange and comforting all at the same time. Though fully clothed, she had felt his body stir when she'd pressed back against him. She felt torn between her desire for more and her desire to honor his wishes and wait. She'd always believed she would go to the marital bed a virgin but now, with Charles, she wanted to lock the doors and let him possess her, let him teach her and show her everything. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she rose from the bath, drying herself and slipping into a new, clean shift. As her maids were fixing her hair, Eleanor rushed into the room, her excitement written across her face.  
"Jane!" she exclaimed, "You must come quickly."  
'What is it, Nora?" she asked.  
"The Duke sent me to fetch you," she answered.  
Charles had sent her? Rising, she followed Eleanor out and down the stairs to the main hall where it seemed everyone had gathered in anticipation. He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her and when she arrived, he led her to the great hall, everyone else trailing behind. When the doors were opened she gasped. The room had already been beautifully decorated with evergreen boughs and candles and seasonal flowers along with the ever popular "kissing balls," but now there was a gigantic fir tree in one corner of the room. It reached practically to the ceiling and had been lit with hundreds of candles.  
"It's a Christmas tree," he explained, "Evidently they're meant to represent the Holy Trinity and the candles are meant to be a reminder of the presence of Christ's light in our lives. I heard about it from one of the friars at the abbey. Do you like it?" he asked.  
"It's beautiful."  
"It's for you," he said softly while everyone else drew close to look at the tree.  
"Thank you. For everything," she said, squeezing his hand.  
"I just want you to have the happiest of Christmases, my love."  
"I already am. Even if there was nothing else, just being with you would have sufficed."  
He kissed the back of her hand and she shivered. He felt the tremor course through and smiled down at her. He loved that he had this effect on her, loved that he could make her tremble with just the smallest of touches. And as his hand held hers, he thought about the ring he'd already had commissioned that he hoped to be able to present her with very soon.

The next few days passed in a blur of preparations and anticipation and activity for the Christmas Day celebrations. She felt as though she hardly saw Charles except for at dinner. He'd been busy entertaining her father and brothers, busy with whatever work the King had tasked him with, writing letters and tending to council matters even from this distance. Two days before Christmas Eve there had been a visit from Lord Thomas Boleyn and from the Duke of Norfolk that had lasted for several hours. Jane had not been introduced though William and her father had and so she couldn't be sure of the reasons; was it business thought above her, was it something else? When they left there was a strange and somewhat somber tension that settled about the Hall. Having had enough of the mystery, she went in search of him, finding him in his study before the fire, pensive with thought. He didn't hear her enter, didn't even hear the rustle of her skirts as she approached and it was only when she came to kneel before him that he met her eyes.  
"Tell me what has happened," she said quietly.  
Charles sighed. He wanted to tell her, to relieve his own burdened mind and yet, at the same time, he wanted to keep her as far from this as possible, to let nothing affect her opinion of him. It was a large part of the reason that he had not introduced her to either Boleyn or Norfolk, men he loathed but whose friendship in these tumultuous times was needed. His need to be honest with her finally outweighed his desire to keep her in the dark and so he found himself explaining what the two men wanted. With an obvious motivation to see their daughter and niece rise to the greatest position in the land, they sought Suffolk's support in bringing down Cardinal Wolsey, a man who they deemed not only too high handed but also traitorous to the King. Norfolk had recently discovered accounts that showed Wolsey was taking money directly from the King's coffers. To make matters worse, both men seemed to believe that Wolsey, despite saying otherwise to his majesty, opposed the dissolution of his marriage to Katharine of Aragon. Aware of Charles' own closeness to the King, they believed he could be useful in helping to continue to plant the seeds of suspicion in Henry's mind.  
She'd begun to pace as he explained everything to her and when he finished, she stopped where she was before his desk.  
"This strikes me as a horribly dangerous game, your grace," she said.  
He looked at her. She was calling him "your grace," as sure a sign as anything that she disapproved of the plan.  
"What would you have me do, Jane?"  
"Tell his majesty."  
"And what would I tell him? That his most trusted advisor is stealing from him? That the relatives of his…his consort are scheming to get rid of the wife he wants to put aside. He would take everything I have for less than that."  
"Is that what matters to you? All of this? What about the Queen who has done nothing to deserve this? What about Princess Mary? Both of whom will lose everything if they are successful in this, your grace."  
"He is my oldest friend and he can be most generous and loving but he is also prone to fits of temper and maliciousness. He is as likely to have me hung for treason as he is to have Wolsey or Norfolk hung, perhaps even more."  
"But why? Surely you've been a far more loving and faithful servant than the Boleyns."  
"Because he loves her, Jane. Beyond loving her, he wants to possess her and she won't let him do that until he can marry her. He is a man driven by his lusts and normally he would have just gone and dealt with them somewhere else, with someone else but for whatever reason, he is consumed by her. I don't know what sort of hold she has over him but whatever it might be, it's dangerous for us all. "  
"Can't you just speak with him, explain the situation…"  
"That isn't how this works, Jane. You don't "just explain" things to the King of England. He's not like you or I. He doesn't understand reason, he just dictates things to happen and we're all supposed to make them happen."  
"Then appeal to him as a man."  
"He's a man who wants a son, who needs a son. A son is the only thing that prevents this country being sent back into the chaos that existed before his father became King. You can't possibly understand, Jane…you're just…" he began and stopped himself.  
'Just what?" she asked, knowing what he was going to say.  
"A woman, Jane, but it's not…"  
"I see," she said, beginning to make her way back to the door, "Then I think you should do whatever you men, who are obviously so intellectually superior, have decided. Even if it means selling your soul to Satan himself," she ended angrily, forcibly slamming the door behind her.  
She ran, half blindly down the hall, eyes burning with tears. She passed William on the stairs, who called her name and was shocked when she didn't respond. She made it to the entrance of the gardens before she remembered that she'd forgotten her cloak and gloves and that it was absolutely freezing. She rounded the corner and nearly walked straight into him.  
"But how…"she began in shock.  
"You forgot that my windows overlook the gardens," he said.  
She had forgotten and silently cursed herself for being so obvious in her choice of escape route. Still angry with him she brushed past, making it only two steps before he grabbed her gently by the arm and turning her around to face him.  
"I know you're angry with me. I know I shouldn't have said what I just did and I also know that you are only protecting me. And I love you for that, I really do. But you have to remember that I'm not used to discussing these things with anyone."  
She looked at him, waited for him to continue.  
"Jane, he's my oldest friend. And even though there are times when he's irascible and tyrannical and sometimes worse, I still see him as the boys we once were playing in the yards of his estate. He's given me everything and even though I hate being his pawn as a result, I have to do what he asks."  
She nodded and began to make her way down the path once more.  
"Are you not going to speak to me ever again then?"  
"No, I'll speak to you. Right now I'm just angry and hurt and more than that I'm worried for you. What if this all goes wrong, Charles? What if he thinks you and Boleyn and Norfolk have all set him up? What if Norfolk sells you out? You've said yourself he can't be trusted. What if you give them everything and get nothing but trouble for it?"  
He wanted to reassure her, to promise her that it would all be fine but the truth was, he didn't know it would be. Everything she said was not only a possibility but the fact of the matter was that if this plan of theirs to get rid of Wolsey somehow went awry, he knew both Boleyn and Norfolk would sell him up the Thames. There was a long pause while he looked at her and then she shivered and he seemed to remember that she was outside with nothing but a dress to cover her. Sighing, he unfastened his cloak and wrapped it around her.  
"You're going to catch your death out here," he said, taking her tiny hands in his and rubbing them between his palms.  
"It won't much matter if I'm dead if you're dead too," she said.  
"Sweetheart, I'm not going to die. Nothing is going to happen to me," he soothed.  
"But what if it does? What if something goes wrong? I don't think I could stand losing you after only just beginning to have you."  
He stepped closer to her, leaning down so that his forehead was pressed to hers.  
"Jane. My dear, sweet, lovely, wonderful Jane, it would take so much more than the Duke of Norfolk to keep me from you. I won't do anything rash or anything that would jeopardize our future. I love you and will do everything I can to grow old right here at Henham, with you beside me."  
She smiled up at him and he brushed his mouth over hers. It was the faintest of kisses and she stood up on her tip toes, leaning in for more which he gladly gave her, his mouth growing more frantic and demanding with each slant of his mouth over hers. He pulled away when they heard a dog begin to bark and a moment later Henry burst around the corner, Charles' dog, Artemis, hot on the boys' heels.  
"Charles! I mean, your grace, can we take Artemis for a run in the gardens?" he asked.  
Jane was not surprised by this. Henry's hero worship of Charles had somehow grown in just the few short days they had been there and he'd follow the Duke around whenever possible. They'd gone sledding and ice skating and walked the dog together nearly every day. Sometimes she wasn't sure who would miss him more when they had to return home after Christmas; her or Henry.  
"Yes, we can. But only a short walk today, all right? I have to get back to do some more work," he said and Henry, already on the move, nodded his head and took off around the corner after the dog.  
He kissed her again. A lingering, loving, gentle kiss that was not only an apology but also a reassurance that everything would be well. She handed him his cloak and began to head back to the house. It wasn't perfect and she was definitely uncomfortable with the discussed plan but she knew she'd have to trust him; not only to make the right decision but also to do the right thing for them.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Historically inaccurate (as far as relationships) and NSFW like The Tudors._

It was Christmas Eve and it seemed as though a calm had settled over the world. It had snowed on and off throughout the day and now a light dusting covered all of the gardens and pathways, the hills and acres of vast land, the trees and rooftops. It was beautiful; quiet and serene. Eleanor and Jane had spent the day together, curled up before the fire in Jane's chambers, looking at fabrics and discussing what Jane should have done with her chambers.  
"It feels a little strange to be decorating rooms in a house that I don't yet live in," Jane had commented.  
"But you will someday," Nora had responded.  
"We aren't even betrothed, Nora. He could change his mind at any time."  
Nora rolled her eyes in exasperation. "That's unlikely," she said.  
"But he could."  
"And William could change his mind at any time."  
"He would never. He loves you."  
"Precisely. And so does his grace. So will you please stop worrying and choose between this or this," Nora asked, holding up two different swatches.  
Jane looked at them again, pointing to the one her friend held in her left hand.  
Eleanor made a small note on a piece of paper and placed the fabric sample beside it.

They continued this for most of the afternoon until they rang the maid for tea at 4. There was a dinner, without meat, planned for the evening and they'd begin to burn the Yule Log, a massive log that she had watched the grooms drag through the entry into the great hall. She knew Charles had hired some carolers to come and perform for them and then at midnight they'd walk to the nearby chapel for midnight mass. Both women had selected elegant and elaborate gowns and head wear for the evening. In fact most of what they'd wear over the next few evenings was elaborate. Tomorrow evening's Christmas celebrations, the feast and mummur's play on New Year's Eve, and the celebration of the Epiphany to round out the twelve days of Christmas would all be equally lavish affairs.  
Jane had watched as the servants decorated the Hall, hanging boughs of evergreen over nearly every available surface. There were seasonal fruits and nuts and candles displayed everywhere and kissing boughs had been strategically placed everywhere throughout the room, encouraging the young and old to share a kiss beneath their beautiful greenery. It was as magical a Christmas Eve as Jane could ever remember, perhaps made more dazzling by the presence of Charles who had so obviously gone out of his way to do everything he could to make this season as special as he could for her and her family.

When she arrived in the foyer shortly before dinner was announced, she found William and Charles in deep conversation. They both turned when they saw her approach, a small smile playing at William's lips as he watched his sister approach. There was clearly no one else in the room for her but Charles Brandon and it made him happy to see his sister so happy.  
"Brother, your grace," she greeted, curtseying to both of them.  
They returned her greeting and as they made polite small talk, Jane saw William look up and the look on his face indicated that his breath had been stolen away. She turned to see Nora coming down the stairs and placed a gentle hand on Charles' arm, indicating that they should give the couple their own space.  
She was a breathtaking vision. In a dress that one minute shone blue and the next a translucent dove grey, with long, flowing sleeves and an intricately beaded bodice. Her hair had been done up and atop her flaxen locks sat a coronet of diamonds, an item long in the Howard family.  
"My lord," she greeted him with a small curtsey.  
"My lady," he replied, "Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm and escorting her into the hall for the meal and entertainment that lay ahead.  
That sat side by side through the meal, William was hardly able to take his eyes off of her. They drank wassail and after a glass, Eleanor was giggling softly.  
"I fear you may be drunk, my lady," he teased, leaning close to her eye.  
"Yes, my lord, I am quite drunk. On the season, on this place, on the company, and of course, on…"  
"On?" he urged.  
"The wassail, my lord," she responded, a tiny laugh escaping her lips.  
"I had thought you might say that you were drunk on love, Ellie," he murmured into her ear.  
She turned to him, mouth mere inches from his and raised a finger to trace it lightly over his plump bottom lip.  
"That too," she whispered and then brought her mouth to his.  
Mindful of the crowd around them, he kept it chaste, letting her linger there for only a moment before pulling away.  
After dinner the carolers performed, traditional and beautiful hymns and songs of the season that left everyone in a more festive mood. Shortly before they were to head out for the evening, Charles pulled her aside and kissed her.  
"Whatever was that for, your grace?"  
"Because I love you and I very much wanted to kiss you before Christmas Day."  
"Just before Christmas Day?" she asked.  
"And every day and night after," he answered, kissing her once more.  
When he pulled away, she was breathless, eyes still shut, still leaning slightly forward on her toes.  
"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look this evening?" he asked, breaking the moment because if he didn't, he might not have the will power to do so in another few minutes.  
She'd worn a mauve dress with a pearl detailing and sleeves that tapered slightly at her wrists. A tiara of silver, bronze, and pearls sat upon her brown hair which had been styled partially up and partially down. She'd intentionally chosen pink because he'd once mentioned that he loved the flush in her cheeks when she was embarrassed.  
"I think you may have told me once or twice, your grace," she said.  
"Well, then I am happy to say once more that you are the most exquisitely beautiful woman present here this evening and I am not only delighted but honored to be the person with whom you chose to spend your time," he said.  
She flushed and he smiled at her.  
"Come. Let's to mass," he said, offering her his arm.

As head of the household, Charles was the person to whom the first light of the Christmas season was presented at the midnight mass. He, in turn, would then share that light with Jane and then so on and so forth until the whole congregation was alight. The entire mass was beautiful and Jane was more than a little embarrassed when she reached up to touch her cheek and found herself crying. Christmas had been her mother's favorite season and despite her best efforts to keep it as festive and as happy as possible for her brothers and sisters, her father always seemed more melancholy than usual. This year, however, he was happier than she could remember and she smiled at him as she turned to light his candle with her own. On the walk back to the manor, it had begun to snow and though she was being guided by Charles' firm hand on hers and his steady walk, she turned to look for William and Nora.  
"Where are Nora and William?" she asked, stopping slightly to peer behind once more.  
"Come along, my love," he said.  
"Charles, what if Nora fell and they need help? Where could they have gone?" she asked, a note of worry creeping into her voice.  
"I'm sure they're fine, Jane. William is with her. He can take care of any problems should they arise."  
She forcibly tugged her hand from his and broke free of his grasp.  
"What if he's hurt and she can't help him? Would you have me leave my brother out here to die in the snow?"  
"Jane," he said lowly as a group of guests passed, "I assure you, William and Eleanor are fine. They have not slipped, no one is injured and no one will freeze to death tonight."  
"But how…" she began and she looked up at him, "What do you know that you aren't telling me?"  
"Nothing. I don't know anything," he said, shrugging.  
"You're a terrible liar, Charles."  
He sighed heavily, leaning forward he bent down to whisper into her ear. When he pulled back, she had tears in her eyes.  
"Really?" she asked.  
"Really and truly, darling. Now, before you freeze to death, can we please hasten along the way?"  
And smiling all the way back to the manor she walked with him arm and arm.

He'd pulled her away from the doors of the chapel as the rest of the congregants passed by them.  
"Come with me," he said quietly, taking her by the hand and leading her around the corner of the chapel.  
"What? Where are you taking me? William?"  
He didn't respond, simply kept a firm hold on her hand and hurried along the path with her. They arrived to a small cottage in the woods, one she hadn't known was there and one through which she could see the faint flicker of candlelight in the dark night.  
"William, where are we? Who lives here?" she asked though she knew he would not answer her question.

He led her inside and she gasped in shock at the inside. Hundreds, nay, thousands of candles lit the entire space. Rose petals lay scattered across the floor though she could not imagine where he'd managed to procure roses during the winter. A roaring fire blazed in the fireplace and there was a small table and chairs nearby on which a tray of fruits and nuts lay along with a pitcher of wine. Near to the fire a large rug lay, scattered with dozens of pillows and blankets.  
"What is all…?" she began, turning back to him only to find him down on his knees before her.  
"Eleanor, Ellie, my dearest, most beloved Ellie, I have loved you since the first moment you walked into the doors of our home after I returned from France those many years ago. If I could, I would have made you mine then but somehow life seemed to conspire against us. And now, finally, after everything, here you are standing before me, looking as beautiful as that day in the foyer so many years ago and I want to know if you will give me the great delight and joy of becoming your husband?"  
She could barely speak, barely formulate a coherent thought. He was here before her, looking up at her with those beautiful eyes she knew so well, asking for, no, giving her the very best gift he possibly could and all she could do was cover her mouth with her hand to stifle the surprise.  
He removed a small black pouch from within the pocket of his coat and opened it slowly, allowing the item inside to tumble into his open palm. When he unfurled his fingers, she cried out in shock. The ring that lay upon his broad palm was beautiful. A band of diamonds and sapphires, all set to look like flowers in the garden. It was all she had ever imagined and so much more since it was coming from her one great love.  
"Ellie? My love?" he questioned and she remembered that she had yet to answer him.  
"Yes, William. Of course. Yes."  
He slid the ring onto her finger, coming to stand and draw her into his arms. His mouth came to hers, softly, tenderly, and with all the love and affection he felt for her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, pressing her mouth more firmly against his and deepening the kiss. After long minutes of impassioned caresses, he pulled back from her. There was nothing lovelier to him than the sight of her, face flushed with heat, lips swollen with his kisses.  
"Why have you stopped?" she asked, reaching for him but he stepped back.  
"Ellie, I…"  
"What is it, William? Have I offended you in some way?"  
"No, my love. No, never. I'm afraid that…well, I think…I know that if I don't stop now, I won't be able to stop myself at all," he finished, looking at her.  
She looked at him, understood what he meant, and made a decision.  
"I don't want you to stop," she breathed.  
"But…" he protested feebly.  
"No. I'm ready. I want this, William. I want you. Every part of you. I don't want to wait anymore," she said and she undid the tie of her cape, letting it fall to the floor.  
He scooped her into his arms, easily picking her up and carrying her across the room to the rug.  
He lay over her, brushing the hair from her face softly, tracing her mouth and eyes, her cheekbones, down the column of her throat, brushing his fingertips over the top of her décolletage and then reaching his hand down the front of her bodice. Her back arched in response to his touch and she cried his name. He wanted to be slow, knew he needed to be gentle and kind, knew it was her first time and he wanted to make it as pleasurable for her as possible. He sat her up and she reached for her coronet, removing it and then unpinning her hair, allowing it to fall over her shoulders in light waves. In the candlelight she looked like an angel, the light casting a soft glow across her face. He lovingly caressed her cheek and then drew her to him, kissing her deeply once more. As he kissed her, his hands wandered to her back, untying ribbons, sliding buttons from their homes, and finally slipping the top off of her body. She was still in her shift but through the light fabric he could make out the outline of her breasts which he cupped with his hands, causing her to gasp and shudder.  
"So beautiful, Ellie. So, so beautiful," he murmured, kissing his way down her neck, over her collarbone and drawing one of the nipples into his mouth through the fabric of her gown. Her hands tightened in his hair, bringing his mouth more firmly against her skin.  
He repeated the motion over and over until her gown was soaked with the evidence of his work and she was trembling from the sensations he was causing and the cold, wet feel of her gown.  
"If you want me to stop, my love, you just need to say so," he said.  
"Don't stop, William. Please."  
His hands reached for the hem of her skirt, drawing it up, followed by her petticoats and then her shift. He moaned as soon as his fingers found the warm, smooth skin of her inner thigh. He traced small circles up the skin, pausing to allow her to breathe. She hadn't forgotten how wonderful it felt when he did this to her for the first time. She had barely been able to think about anything other than those stolen moments in the library of his family home. Though they had continued to sneak away for stolen kisses and caresses since then he hadn't attempted to lift her skirts and touch her in the most private of spots.  
"William," she pled, a small breathy plea that sent him right over the edge.  
He could no longer hold back, could no longer contain the passion that had tempted him these last long years, these last long months. He had to make her his, had to possess her body and soul and her pliant willingness, her own yearning for him, was all the consent he needed. He drew her to her feet, undoing the buttons and laces of her skirt and then allowing her to step out of her petticoats until she was down to just her shift. She stepped into his arms, allowing him to wrap his arms around her tiny frame. She was shaking and he held her close, stroking her hair, allowing her to set the pace and determine what she was comfortable with. Her fingers plunged into the front of his shirt, tracing over his sparsely coated chest, fingers grazing over his nipples, causing him to hiss out a breath.  
"Did that hurt you?" she asked.  
"No. It felt lovely," he answered.  
She returned her hands to his chest, repeating her earlier motions and getting the same reaction when she scraped over his nipples once more.  
"Take off your shirt," she said and he obliged quickly.  
Her hands wandered over his bare skin. The first time she had seen him without a shirt in her presence and she marveled at the way his muscles rippled and gleamed in the light. She kissed over beauty marks and traced patterns over his arms, learning each spot, each mark, each part of his chest and back and arms. Overwhelmed by what she was allowed to do she kissed him, seeking the familiar reassurance of his mouth on hers. He drew her flush against his body and she could feel the obvious evidence of his arousal as it pressed at the juncture of her thighs. Feeling it sent a tingle through her body. Her mother had explained to her long ago what would happen on her wedding night and it was wholly inadequate and left her with more questions than answers. It had ultimately been Jane who'd given her a more thorough explanation of affairs, things she had learned from her own mother who it seemed was more knowledgeable of these things, or at least more comfortable discussing them. She'd been prepared to submit to her husband's desires in the marital chamber, been prepared to lay quiet and still while he did his business but with William it was something all together different. It felt like a flame ignited inside of her whenever he touched her and once he had touched her she wanted more and more.  
She reached for the ties of her shift, allowing them to fall over her shoulders, the gown pooling around her feet. She stepped back from his embrace and allowed him to look at her, naked and exposed before him, totally vulnerable, perfectly beautiful in every way. He lifted her into his arms and laid her back upon the rug, amid the pillows once more and he kissed her for a long time until she was pressing herself against him with wanton abandon.  
He traced a line over her stomach to the juncture of her thighs and cupped her gently in his palm. He looked up at her, saw no fear, no hesitation, and slid a finger inside of her tight, wet, heat. It felt as amazing as it had the first time but this time he began to move his finger, stroking her, crooking his finger inside of her body, drawing sounds from her that she wasn't even aware she could make. He kept her hips still with one hand while the other stroked her. He added a bit more pressure, rubbing the heel of his hand over her clit and causing her to nearly arch straight off the floor.  
"Easy, love, easy," he soothed.  
She was thrashing about the rug, her hands above her head, her perfect body exposed to his lust filled gaze. He slid a second finger inside of her and she whimpered. His head whipped up, uncertain if he had hurt her, and she nodded encouragingly, not wanting him to stop. Everything he was doing felt so good and once her body had adjusted to the new intrusion of his fingers inside of her, it was an indescribable sensation of wanting more and not knowing what to do. Her head tossed from side to side and her moans and gasps grew louder and louder the more he did and she was infinitely relieved that they were alone.  
She was tight and he wanted to bring her to climax before he took her maidenhead, wanted her to know and remember how good it felt before he had to cause her even the briefest moment of pain so while his hand pumped in and out of her, his other sought out her breast, tracing it until it was pebbled beneath his touch and then tweaking and pulling at her nipple. He brought his wet mouth to the hardened bud, sucking it into his mouth and raking his teeth over the sensitive tip.  
"William," she gasped, clutching him to her. He looked up, kissed her mouth, and then moved on to her other breast, his other hand never faltering in its work.  
She was crumbling, falling, something had burst inside of her and the smoldering embers in her stomach had turned into full fledged flames. She was uncertain, her hold on reality fraying further and further with every touch or press of his fingers. He could sense she was nearing her finish, her breathing had grown shorter and more frantic, her body had stilled slightly, allowing her to feel the exquisite pleasure of each touch and stroke. He realized she didn't know what was happening so he leaned forward to kiss her and then bringing his mouth to her ear he whispered, "Let go for me, Ellie."  
His fingers pumped faster, a second, third, fourth time and as he pressed the palm of his hand against her clit, the flame inside of her burst into a hundred million pieces and she clung to his broad shoulders as she shuddered and gasped.  
He came to lay alongside her, taking in the smooth skin, the dip of her hip, the way she lay with her eyes shut in a haze of pleasure. When her eyes flickered open a few minutes later he was looking at her and she blushed under his gaze, reaching for her shift which still lay nearby.  
"Don't," he said, "Just let me look at you, my beautiful girl.  
Her hands fell to her sides as his eyes wandered over her body. He came to lie between her legs and she realized she could feel him pressed against her.  
"Do you want to….well…I mean…are you going to…Will you put that inside of me?" she asked, her eyes falling to the front of his trousers where an obvious erection had formed.  
"My penis?" he asked.  
She nodded, far too embarrassed to actually call it by its name.  
"I'd like to. Very much," he answered, mouth suddenly dry.  
She nodded again and squeezed her eyes shut. He would have laughed at how anxious she looked lying there if he didn't know how nervous she was.  
"Ellie," he said, softly, coaxingly, "Look at me."  
She opened her eyes, met his storm clouds and knew if she said no, he would stop. She didn't want him to.  
"I'm going to take my pants and boots off," he said, standing over her and turning around for a moment to remove his shoes and pants. When he turned back to her he was still wearing his undergarments though they had been untied somewhat and hung on his hips.  
"Will it hurt?" she asked, biting her lip.  
"I think yes and maybe the first few times we do this but I promise I will be gentle."  
"What if I…will you be disappointed with me?" she asked softly, looking away from him.  
"Never, "he responded, turning her face back to his and capturing her mouth once more.  
As he kissed her, he rubbed himself over her prone form, allowing his shaft to rub against her clit, reminding her how good that felt and after a few minutes, on pure instinct alone she was meeting his thrusts. He could smell her arousal, could feel her wet heat soaking through the front of his own shorts and he pushed them down out of the way, freeing his erection and grasping it with his palm. She looked down and he saw her eyes widen.  
Better to just get on with it, he thought, positioning himself at her entrance and sliding a quarter of an inch inside of her. It was strange but not terribly uncomfortable, she thought to herself. In fact, the heat from his body and the way he was kissing her actually made it feel quite good. He slid in a little further, watching her eyes for any signs of pain. It was good that he had done what he had before this, it had prepared her body for what he was about to do. He met the small wall of resistance and his control started to slip at the thought of being buried in her to the hilt.  
"I'm sorry, my love," he said and he pushed forcefully through her maidenhead, letting out a groan as she gasped at the unfamiliar intrusion and the moment of pain it caused. As hard as it was, he stilled himself, letting her adjust to the feel of him, letting her breathing slow and the pain subside slightly. He leaned his forehead against hers, whispering sweet words into her ear, soothing her, encouraging her, loving her the way only he could. He shifted unintentionally and he watched her eyes change from pain to pleasure at the sensation he had created. Taking her legs, he drew them around his waist and began to move, slowly at first, then with a more hurried motion as she began to meet his movements. She had no idea how her body knew what to do. It was as though someone else had inhabited her and turned her into this wholly wanton creature. His thrusts began to quicken in pace and determined to make her climax once more, he reached between their bodies, pressing his thumb to her clit and sucking her breast into his mouth. The combined sensation of his hand pressing her while he moved in and out of her and the feel of his warm mouth on her breast sent her spiraling again and she felt herself come undone once more. Her walls tightened and pulsed around him and it was the most glorious thing he had ever felt. She squeezed him, body arching into his and he climaxed with a thunderous roar, collapsing half on top of her.  
When he was finally able to breathe, he rolled to his side, coming up on his arm to look into her blue eyes.  
"Merry Christmas, Ellie," he said, kissing her forehead.  
"Merry Christmas, William," she replied, kissing his nose, causing him to laugh.  
And it was, indeed, the happiest of Christmases.


	12. Chapter 12

Christmas Day arrived along with a feast that surely rivaled that of his majesty's court. She had gone to look for Eleanor early the next morning but her maids had said their mistress was still abed. Charles had told her that William had planned to propose but she wanted to hear it first hand from her dearest friend. The fact that she was still in bed meant that perhaps they had stayed out a bit later than the rest of the party. William didn't join the rest of the household until well after noon himself and when he saw Jane and her quizzical look, he blushed and looked away. Now she was truly suspicious as to what had happened. Her brother never blushed and he looked like a naughty school boy caught day dreaming instead of attending to his lessons. Later, Eleanor appeared in her chambers, giddy with excitement over her betrothal and with something else that Jane couldn't quite identify. The ring was marvelous, a beautiful sapphire and diamond jewel that looked as if it had always belonged upon her finger.  
"I am so happy for you, Nora," Jane said.  
"You'll be next, Jane. I just know it."  
Jane smiled, "Perhaps. It's a bit more of a challenge for us, I think."  
"But why? You love each other. Your father has given his consent. What else could stand in your way?"  
"The King. The King needs to give his consent. I wouldn't be marrying just a no name farmer, Nora."  
"But surely he'll give his permission. He adores Charles. They call him the "second king." He allowed him to marry his sister."  
"And for that offense he nearly lost his head, Nora. He won't…he can't make the same mistake twice. This time everything has to be done properly."  
"When will he ask?"  
"I have to be presented at court first. He hasn't said anything as yet but I think he'd like to do it after the Christmas season is past."  
"You see Jane, he longs to have the matter settled."  
And Jane could only hope that she was right. She feared the worst, felt uneasy at the thought that her engagement rested in the hands of a man who could be both capricious and generous all in the same breath. More than that she worried for Charles who seemed caught between duty to his King and desire for the friendship they had shared as boys. He hadn't said as much but she could tell he was pondering his conversation with Boleyn and Suffolk and also his argument with her. It was clear that having to make a decision between what was in his best interests versus what might be the smartest move strategically was weighing heavy upon him. He was doing his utmost best to be as relaxed and carefree as possible, his hospitality and company were unparalleled and he was unfailingly polite, kind, and attentive to her but in idle moments she could see him gazing out the window in distraction or staring into his empty cup.  
By New Year's Day she felt both anxious and restless with worry. He'd done everything he could to distract her, sensing her anxiety. They'd gone ice skating with Henry, for long walks in the gardens, talking endlessly about everything, sharing secrets and desires, learning all the subtle nuances only lovers know about each other. And yet she couldn't quite shake the feeling of foreboding that settled over her with each day that fell away, drawing them closer and closer to being parted once more. As was tradition, the exchange of gifts happened that evening and it was a spectacle like none other. Charles had spared no expense and there were gowns and sleeves, a pearl necklace and ring to match. There was a puppy, a sweet and beautiful little spaniel that Henry promptly stole from her to entertain himself with and then he led her to the window and pointed out a horse that was being held in the nearby courtyard.  
"Charles," she gasped, "It's too much. Really. Whatever do I need a horse for? I have a perfectly good one."  
"But not for here. She is yours for Henham. For when you come home at last," he said quietly, tilting her chin up and brushing his mouth over hers softly.  
Those gentle kisses would be her undoing and she released a breathy sigh when he pulled away.  
"Thank you," she said.  
"There is one more thing," he said, withdrawing a small velvet pouch from his coat.  
"Charles, don't…not without…"  
"Shhh," he soothed, "It's not that, Jane. I know how worried you are about that. It's something else entirely," he said.  
He took her hand and drawing open her fingers, emptied the contents of the pouch into her hand. It was a locket, silver with a rose design on the front.  
"Open it," he said and she did, smiling to see his picture painted within.  
"It's the gift I love the most, dearest. For me it means I can keep you always close to my heart," she said.  
He kissed her fingertips, bowing slightly over her hand.  
Her own gifts to him were equally lavish; a new set of boots made of the finest leather, a new pair of gloves for riding, shirts that she herself had made, and a gift very similar to the one he had given to her; a small picture of herself contained inside a small leather box.  
"I much prefer the real version," he said, "But this will suffice in your absence."  
He made a show of gifting her father with wine and cheese, along with a new coat of fur. For Anne and Lucy there were new gowns and sleeves. For Thomas there were falconer's gloves and the promise of a falcon of his choice. William received beautiful goblets of gold, intricately designed and inlaid with rubies and for Eleanor there was a matching puppy, several new headdresses and a bracelet of gold. But it was Henry's gift that most touched her. He'd had a bow and arrows made for the boy and the peal of delight that issued from his throat when he opened the gift nearly brought tears to Jane's eyes.  
"Thank you, your grace. Thank you," he effused, overjoyed with the gift.  
"Do you like it?" Charles asked, leaning down so he was face to face with the boy.  
"Quite. Will you take me and show me how to use it?" he asked.  
Charles nodded and ruffled the boy's hair. It had been Henry's greatest desire for the last year to learn to arch and though their father had once been quite skilled, age had prevented him from shooting for quite some time. William was far too preoccupied with the affairs of his estate and Thomas had never mastered the skill, preferring falconry instead. She had mentioned it in passing in a letter she'd sent weeks ago and was touched to see that he remembered.  
"Thank you," she whispered to him, "That was very thoughtful and generous of your grace."  
"He is a pleasure to be with, Jane. Truly. And I think much of that is owed to you," he said in return.  
She was flattered by his words and overwhelmed by his generosity and so it was she who leaned up and kissed him, biting his lower lip until he parted her mouth was his tongue and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, drawing her closer and kissing her quite passionately.  
"I love you, Jane. All will be well," he said, leaning his forehead against hers.  
And reassuring as it was to hear that, a whisper of fear shot through her.

The final days of their stay passed all too quickly and after the Feast of the Epiphany, the household staff began to prepare for the return journey. Standing in her bedroom, brushing her hair, she gazed out the window and watched the riders approach. She recognized the livery of the King at once, knew it was something for Charles and hastily finished her hair, practically running to his study. Without knocking, she rushed into the room to find him seated behind his desk, an open letter upon the desk.  
"What is it, Charles? What's happened?"  
"We are summoned to court."  
"We?"  
"You may take a look if you wish," he said, sliding the letter across the table to her.

Picking it up, she read quickly:  
 _Your Grace,  
Please return to court at once. I long for your company again now that the Christmas season has concluded. And Charles, bring your beloved. I would very much like to meet the Lady Jane who I am told has quite captured your heart and affections.  
H Rex._

She trembled. How had he known about her and Charles? Had Charles told him? She was under the impression that he had not mentioned it. Is this how the court gossip worked? The things that were most sacred and private were whispered about in darkened hallways and behind closed doors.  
"How does he know?" she asked, voice trembling.  
"Boleyn and Norfolk must have told him that your family was here. He's an intelligent man, Jane. It wouldn't take long for him to piece it together. It was a mistake to not introduce you that day."  
"But why?"  
"Because keeping you hidden was as sure a sign as any that there was more to the visit than just old friends passing through."  
"Why would they tell him, Charles? It doesn't make sense."  
"To force my hand. They tell the King who is furious that I have failed to mention this courtship to him and in order to get back into his good graces I will need to bring you to court and do the bidding of Norfolk and Boleyn who will, in turn, whisper that I should be forgiven."  
"Charles, this is truly the most tangled web."  
His jaw twitched. He was furious that this had happened, furious with Boleyn and Norfolk who had played him so carefully and astutely, furious to be summoned back and ordered to bring her with him.  
"Unfortunately, my love, we are the prey captured in its silken threads."


	13. Chapter 13

The journey to London felt as though it lasted for days and days. The roads were muddy and slick making the normally long journey seem to last interminably. Jane was in as black a mood as they had ever seen her and despite Eleanor's repeated attempts to draw her into conversation, to divert her attention from what lay ahead, nothing could seem to lift the storm cloud that swirled from above her friend's head. They arrived at Charles' London townhouse after night had fallen and she was disappointed and disheartened to find that he wasn't there to greet them. He'd left a note, apologizing for his absence and explaining that he'd been summoned to a meeting of the privy council that could last well into the wee hours of the morning but that he would return as soon as possible. He'd made arrangements for dinner to be served to them and Jane begged off, asking to be shown to her rooms.  
It was clear that she'd been given the chambers adjoining his, clear that he was making a statement to his servants and to everyone else that this was her home as much as his and he had every intention of keeping it that way. She had a bath drawn for her and after washing off the dirt of the road, she changed into a nightdress and robe, leaving her hair down to dry. It was late and despite the fact that the next few days would be long and tiring, she was unable to sleep as she had been for the past two weeks. They'd returned briefly to her father's estate mainly to unpack and repack, to check in on affairs at home, and then to prepare for the journey to London. Eleanor and William agreed to accompany her at Charles' suggestion. Her father was reluctant to be away from home any longer and was certain that William would handle his responsibilities as Jane's chaperone with as much seriousness as he would. Since both Eleanor and William had been to court before, they were also there to act as unofficial advisors to her on what to do and say, how to dress and how to act. Eleanor was also quite looking forward to purchasing fabric for her wedding dress. The torment though of being presented as the companion of the Duke of Suffolk to his Majesty was overwhelmingly stressful. She was nervous about his reaction to her, nervous about being eyed and whispered about, nervous about how Charles would feel about her once she had been presented and it became abundantly clear that though of a great family with tremendous wealth, she was as far from similar to the girls of court as anything.  
She went from pacing the room to sitting and reading, returning to pacing after only a short while. And so it went for several hours; Jane would find something to occupy her time only to discover that she could no longer focus on the task before her. She'd pace about the room, anxious and worried, and then find something to distract her momentarily. She listened for the sounds of his footfalls on the floors outside her rooms, longed for him to come to her and assure her that all would be well. He'd written several letters in their time apart but they were all short, lacking any information that would be helpful to her and failing to provide her with the kind of comfort she needed. Finally, sometime after midnight, she collapsed upon the bed, falling into a disturbed and restless sleep.  
He'd returned home sometime after two, substantially less intoxicated than he needed to be in order to have survived that meeting. It had been accusation after accusation, friend turning on friend, men of the cloth against the King's advisors, Norfolk and Boleyn against Wolsey, Charles desperately clinging to any control he had over the King's opinion. It seemed that the college of Cardinals had denied Wolsey's request for a meeting to determine the King's great matter and Henry, used to getting his way, was not only furious with Wolsey but also with the rest of the council. Couldn't they see the importance of his having a male heir? Couldn't they understand that this would never happen with Katharine who was growing old and withering before him under her piety and the strain of trying to make a marriage work to a man who could not control his urges. Charles had seen the Queen at court and even he had to acknowledge that though still every bit as kind, gracious, and regal, she seemed more quiet, more reserved and reflective, more serious. Anne Boleyn, on the other hand, openly flaunted her relationship with the King. She was rude to those who she considered below her, she flirted shamelessly with Henry in public, and her connection to alleged heretical leaders gave Charles pause for concern.  
He came to the door of her chambers and considered going in but thought better of it. She had to be tired, had to be asleep after the several days of travel. There was no point in waking her now. He'd see her in the morning. But no sooner had he walked away from the door than it was being opened and in a flash, a blur of red and white was hurtling towards him. She rushed into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist, letting herself feel his solid chest against hers.  
"Charles," she whispered, her voice nearly a cry.  
"Oh my love," he said against her head.  
He'd missed her. It was like having lost a limb when she wasn't present.  
"Will you…" she began and then stopped, pulling back to look at him, uncertain of her next words.  
"Will I what, my love?"  
"Will you come and hold me like you did at Christmas? I have not been sleeping well and I think the only way I can rest easy is with you beside me."  
"Jane, I don't think…"  
"Please, Charles. Please. I need you to hold me," she said, a soft pleading note ringing in her voice.  
He nodded despite his resolve to be perfectly gentlemanly and chivalrous towards her these days, especially with the eyes of the court upon them.  
"I'll come as soon as I am made ready for bed," he whispered, relinquishing her from his hold and kissing her hand softly.  
She nodded, returning to her own rooms. When he came to her only a short while later, she was curled up, knees to her chest on a chair near the fire. He could tell she had been weeping in just the short time they'd been parted and he sighed and came to kneel before her.  
"Jane, my love. You cannot keep on like this. You will drive yourself mad."  
"I already am half mad, Charles. I'm worried about you, I'm worried about this meeting, I'm worried about that…that woman and the control she seemingly wields over him. I wanted a quiet life, far away from this…this den of vipers and charlatans. "  
"You have to know that's impossible, my love. There was never any way that you would be allowed to live a quiet life entirely apart from the court. Not when I am who I am. "  
"But…"  
"There's no buts, Jane. At a minimum, you'd be expected to be present at court at least twice a year. And if you can't manage that then maybe…"  
She looked up at him, wild-eyed at what he was suggesting.  
"I will not end this relationship simply because I'm required to be present at court twice a year. Is that really how little you think of me? That I would be willing to end this because your position requires time at court?" she asked, her voice breaking on a sob.  
"Jane. Sweetheart. Stop. Stop this. We both must stop this," he said, taking her into his arms, hands running soothingly over her back as she wept.  
If this was what Henry had hoped to achieve by demanding they come to court then his mission was quite successful. He had managed to undermine everything they had spent the last weeks building with a current of fear and now neither of them was able to completely shake it. He was worried about her, could almost hear the anxiety and fear when she wrote to him, knew that she wasn't sleeping or eating well, knew that she was utterly terrified by the days that lay ahead. There was a dinner and musicians scheduled for tomorrow and presumably Henry would ask to meet her at that point. The rest of the time would be opportunities for her to be seen at court; masses, dinners, dances, a tournament, and Charles hoped that there would be a private audience for her with the King. Because he knew if Henry met her, spent a little bit of time with her, he would see all of the many things that Charles did.  
She had stopped crying but she was still trembling and he was worried that the strain of the visit combined with her lack of sleep and the long journey would make her too ill for the visit, thus just prolonging the inevitable. Saying a silent prayer that no one had seen them earlier and that no one had watched him enter her chambers, he took her hand and led her to her bed.  
'I will stay only until you're asleep, my love and then I must return to my bed. There are eyes and ears everywhere here," he whispered against her temple, drawing her close and securing her to his chest with an arm around her waist.  
She felt infinitely better with his arms about her, knew there was no safer place than here with him beside her and though she longed for the nights when they could finally do this without fear of discovery or scandal, for now, it would have to suffice. He breathed her in, letting her presence soothe him. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that no matter what Henry did or said, no matter how hard he had to placate his oldest and dearest friend, he would be allowed to marry Jane. He kissed her cheek and she moved back against him.  
"Don't," he said, "Not yet, Jane. Not until we're married."  
He had no idea where this was coming from. He'd never waited for any woman. He'd fallen in to bed with Mary, a romping, frolicking, passionately intense affair that had ended with her death. There had been other women sense, affairs and short lived flings at court but with Jane he wanted to be a better man, wanted to be a man who was worthy of her.  
"But I want…Charles, I am desirous of this."  
"I know and I am too, dearest but I don't want to rush this. I want to be sure that you are mine in every way possible."  
She sighed and nodded. The fact that he thought so much of her both pleased and infuriated her. She wanted his love and respect, of course, but she also wanted him to love and worship her body. She wanted to know every part of him, every inch of skin and bone and flesh.  
It was only a short while later that her breathing evened out and he knew she had fallen asleep because she had stopped moving about. He lay there a little longer than necessary and when he finally slipped away from her, finally left her bed for his own, he felt a flicker of worry that he might never be able to share her bed, might never be able to hold her and touch her the way he so desperately desired. Turning back at the door he looked at her sleeping form, curled on her side, one hand under the pillow, the other curled by her face, her dark hair waving over the pillows. By God she was stunning. And Charles was nothing if not stubborn, it was both his best and worst quality, the ability to hold on steadfastly to an idea or a desire. And he would do everything in his power to see that she was safe and protected and always certain of his love and devotion.


	14. Chapter 14

Eleanor had crept down the dimly lit hall to William's chambers once she was certain her maids were abed. She knocked softly, three taps, followed by a brief whistle, their agreed upon sign that it was her and not someone else.  
The door opened, casting a soft glow over his face and he reached for her hands, drawing her into the room and shutting the door behind her quietly. He drew her into his arms and kissed her; hard, passionately, long. They'd been able to steal away for two other nights in the forest cabin at Christmastime but since then, they'd been unable to be together.  
She'd returned home to prepare for this trip and though there had been stolen kisses and a brief squeezing of her breasts while she rubbed herself against him, they had been unable to do more than that.  
She had yet to tell Jane in part because William was her brother and in part because she knew her friend was so preoccupied and distracted by this visit to court.  
"William," she breathed when he paused momentarily.  
"Dearest Ellie, I have missed you," he whispered into her hair.  
"Will you...can we...take me to bed," she finally finished and he grinned at her boldness.  
He adored this side of her; the wild, irrepressible spirit, the part of her that wanted him and only him, her willingness to give herself to him completely.  
He walked her back to the bed, kissing her the entire length of the room until her knees bumped against the back of the mattress. He was on her in a matter of seconds, hands wandering over her prone form, up to the ribbons at her shoulders which he undid as his mouth kissed her neck and collarbone. Her hands threaded through his short locks, tugging and pulling whenever he hit an especially sensitive spot. He pulled back from her, sliding the fabric from her shoulders and kissing over the smooth skin of her arms as he went. He wanted to take things slowly, aware that it had been some time since they had last done this and that she was still adjusting to his size and girth. So despite the way she was moving beneath him, despite her breathy pleas and moans of his name, he pinned her hands above her head and moved her gown down to her waist, dragging it down with his teeth and then kissing up her stomach to her breasts. He circled the left with his tongue while his hand stroked and pulled and teased at the right. He took her nipple between his teeth, scraping over the tender flesh and then biting gently at the point causing her to gasp in excruciating want. He released her hands and she scratched at his back, clawing at the skin, leaving marks in her wake.  
In his wildest imagination he had never been able to imagine that she would be as voracious as he. He expected to have to teach her, to coax her, to ply her with loving words and tender gestures and though he did all of those things willingly and happily, he was delighted to discover that her passions not only matched his own but that she was a quick and eager learner who'd already discovered many of the spots that were his weakest. She was coming around to further exploration of his penis; a whisper of a touch here, rubbing herself against it there, looking upon it with budding curiosity and interest rather than alarm as she had at first. He wanted her to touch it, to grasp him firmly in hand and stroke him until he trembled beneath her, wanted her to welcome him with her silky, wet mouth, but he knew these things would take time, knew she needed to come to the realization that there were other things she could do with his member that didn't involve penetration. Suddenly, he had a thought as to how he might help her to understand that. It was something he had yet to try with her though he longed to do so.  
He kissed his way back down her stomach, pausing to swirl his tongue around the inside of her navel, causing her to laugh. Yanking the rest of her gown off of her body and tossing it upon the floor, he came to lie between her legs, one hand pressed to her stomach to anchor her to the bed, the other parting her thighs gently. He kissed up her leg, over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh causing her to tremble at the damp trail he left in his wake.  
"William," she gasped.  
He brought his tongue to her clit, lapping at her softly.  
She violently arched her hips off the bed, surprised by what he was doing, shocked by how good it felt and how much she liked it.  
When she'd collapsed back onto the bed he repeated his movements, licking her once, twice, three times as she murmured incomprehensibly and clutched at his hair.  
And so he continued in this way for several minutes; licking her a few times, pausing to watch her reaction and then repeating his motions once more. Her body arched with each stroke of his tongue over her most sensitive spot and she felt like a coil was tightening inside of her stomach, waiting to be released. She was wet, slick with desire and want and he was able to easily slide a finger inside of her, pumping in and out of her as though it was his now stiff erection instead of his hand. After a few minutes he added another finger, stroking and caressing her deep inside of her body where it felt like the spot he was presently sucking had been duplicated inside of her. The coil wound tighter as her legs clenched around his head, placing him directly over her, giving him the perfect angle at which to touch and lick her.  
"William….oh, William…I can't…please…William," she pled.  
"Soon, my sweet, soon," he promised, running his tongue over her.  
Her head fell back upon the pillow, hands clutching at the sheets beneath her fingers, desperate for more, for something, for anything. Though he had placed his fingers inside of her every time they had done this, he had never used both his mouth and fingers to touch her there and she was unsure of what he wanted her to do. All of this was still so new, so unfamiliar and though he was infinitely patience and gentle, she often wondered if she was doing her duty and giving him any pleasure for it seemed that he was the one concerned with her pleasure.  
His tongue ran along a sensitive crevice and she gasped.  
"Please, my love…I don't…"  
"Hush, Ellie. Just let go for me, just as you do when I'm inside of you, my love," he coaxed.  
"But…I…"  
"Shhh. It's all right," he soothed though his tongue and fingers were working most urgently.  
He pressed his thumb to her clit as his tongue sucked it into his mouth and she shattered about him, seemingly into a million pieces as his tongue continued to keep licking her. She stuttered and stammered her way through an orgasm that racked her entire body, leaving her spent and wasted upon the sheets. She had foolishly believed that having him hard and full inside of her was the most pleasurable thing she could have but he had just proven that there was more, much more to lovemaking than she had ever dared dreamed.  
As her breathing slowed, he lay beside her, his hand on her tiny waist, his other hand tracing lightly over her lips, eyes, and cheekbones. She was the most stunningly beautiful creature he had ever seen and he had every intention of making her feel that way every day for the rest of his life. Her eyes fluttered open, finally locking with his grey ones, and a small smile played at her lips.  
"I don't know whether to be more embarrassed at my own wantonness just then or at the fact that I am lying in your bed wholly exposed to you and I don't even care."  
He grinned at her. "None of the above. I love that you come to me so willingly and freely, so eager to allow me to try new things and teach you new things. I love that you want to lie here beside me absolutely naked and beautiful."  
She blushed at this and there was a moment of silence.  
"What's on your mind, sweet?" he asked.  
She blushed again. "Do I…well…am I…are you pleased with me?"  
"Of course, Ellie. I am more than pleased with you. I adore you. You have given me everything."  
"But is there something…anything I can do to please you more…here?" she asked.  
"Here? What are you talking about?"  
"In bed. Is there anything else I can do to bring you the same pleasure you bring me?"  
He hesitated for a moment. His chance was here. Should he tell her? Show her? How did he broach this subject without seeming demanding or without pushing her too hard?  
He was torn between wanting to show her and not wanting to push too hard or to seem like he was let down by her, because he was not, not in the slightest.  
"There is something, my love but if you don't want to or if you want to stop, you will tell me?" he asked.  
She nodded.  
He took her hand in his and holding to it firmly, drew it down over his waist, to the juncture of his thighs where his hair grew coarse and wiry.  
"Touch me, love. I want you to touch me," he said, his voice a low growl.  
She hesitated a moment, unsure what she should do next. It was clear that he wanted her to put her hands on his penis but she wasn't sure how or how hard to touch him. She'd seen it now several times, it alarmed her less and less each passing time and she had begun to feel twinges of interest in looking at it, of studying it and touching it. He was looking at her encouragingly and she came to sit on her knees between his thighs. Her fingertips reached out slowly, touching him with the faintest of touches and he groaned.  
She pulled back, worried that she had hurt him, and his eyes opened, assuring her that he was fine and that what she was doing felt amazing. She repeated the caress once more, running her fingertips from the base of it all the way up to its head. Her thumb swirled over the top, finding it slightly wet. She touched her fingertip to her mouth and he nearly climaxed watching her lick his seed from her fingers.  
"May I try something, my lord?" she asked and her failure to use his name told him that she was afraid she was being too bold or that she'd suggest something that was improper.  
"Anything, love, anything," he said.  
When she leaned forward, her hair brushed over his stomach and he moaned her name the second before she placed a kiss to the head of his erection.  
"You like this?" she asked, pulling back to look at him.  
"Quite a lot, Ellie," he answered.  
She repeated the kiss again, though this time she drew a circle around the soft skin and he muttered an expletive. He tasted salty, a taste that she couldn't quite identify but that was entirely masculine, entirely him. She did it again, licking around the head of his penis and then took her hand and wrapped it about his hard shaft. As her mouth worked over the head of his erection, her hand stroked the skin up and down and she could hear him muttering, could feel how taut and tense his body had become, could tell he was enjoying this as much as she had just enjoyed what he had done to her. When it became too much and he knew he was close, he pulled away from her, positioning her on her side. It was a new way for them to do this but they were both tired and he wanted her close, wanted to feel her pressed to him, wanted access to her chest while he thrust in and out of her.

He took her leg and bent it over his hip and then reached between their bodies, positioning the head of his cock at her entrance and sliding inside of her, an inch at a time. She was gasping softly with each small movement he made. This new angle had him rubbing over her in all of the most wonderful spots and she couldn't help but move her backside against his movements. As he slid in and out of her, he tweaked her nipples, pulling at them while his mouth kissed her neck. Her gasps had turned to short, nearly pained cries and he could feel her walls beginning to tighten and tremble around him. He gave an especially hard thrust, pinching her nipple and sucking on her neck and she pulsed to another earth shattering climax. He pounded into her with another forceful surge and spent himself inside of her with a loud roar.  
As they lay there, his arms around her tightly, his mouth pressing soft kisses to her temple and hairline, she said a silent prayer of thanks. She had always assumed, always been told what a burden the marital bed would be but with William, it was like seeing a sunset for the first time or hearing a baby cry or looking out one's window to see a herd of deer gathered on the lawn in the morning mist. It was beautiful and miraculous and surprising all at the same time. And as he held her close, whispering all of his feelings into her ear, she couldn't imagine how she had become so fortunate or so lucky. 


	15. Chapter 15

Jane had spent what felt like the entire day preparing for her first evening at court. The carriages were due to arrive to pick them up at half past six and she had been up since shortly after five in the morning. She'd fallen asleep while Charles laid with her and had awoken practically the moment he left. Unwilling to bother him any longer, she had lain in bed, staring at the ceiling of fabric and agonizing over the coming days. She was awake before her maids who apologized profusely and scuttled about to complete their morning duties while she sat in a chair, staring out a window that overlooked the Thames. It was raining on and off throughout the day and she had pushed away both breakfast and lunch, unable to eat with her stomach in knots. Finally, worried about her state, her maids sent for Eleanor, who bustled in, all efficiency and good cheer. Taking one look at Jane, she ordered tea and biscuits be sent immediately.  
"Whatever is the matter, Jane? Are you ill?"  
Jane shook her head no.  
Even to Eleanor, who had seen Jane at her very best and very worst, this was not good. She had known her friend was worried and anxious about this visit to court, knew she feared that failing to secure the King's approval would mean she and Charles would be unable to marry, but she hadn't realized how heavily it had been weighing on her shoulders. She left her friend's side, speaking quietly to one of her maids, and then returning to Jane who had seemingly not moved. She was still in her shift and dressing gown, her hair still loose and she was pale. Eleanor could see the circles under her eyes, could see how tired she was and she worried that if she failed to get some rest or to eat something that she would faint as soon as she was in his majesty's presence. She attempted to get her to drink some tea and she obligingly took a sip and then pushed it away. At a loss for what to do next, she sat in silence beside her. It was several moments before there was some noise at the doorway of her chambers and then William was striding in, shirt tucked in but loosely tied at the neck and Eleanor could make out the shape of his chest as he walked across the room to his sister, causing her to let out a small sigh.  
"My lord," she greeted, nodding to him and then making her way back into the entry chamber where Jane's maids had gathered and were whispering in hushed tones. She positioned herself in such a way that she could see into the other room, could see Jane and William speaking but unable to hear what was being said. Aside from Charles, the only other person who might be able to get through to her was William. They'd always been close; only a few years apart in age and William had stepped in as head of the household when their father was too bereft after the death of his wife. Jane's unofficial role as head female had bonded them together in a way that made them closer than most siblings she knew, certainly closer than she was to her own brothers. She could see her beloved coax his sister into drinking some tea and he slowly slid the plate of biscuits across the table to her. His head was bent close to hers, his lighter hair a contrast against her dark hair. He was saying something, offering comforting and reassuring words, and when he grinned, Eleanor couldn't help but find herself grinning in return. Long moments passed and finally Jane laughed, a high, mirthful sound that caused Eleanor to breathe a sigh of relief. A little while later he appeared in the room, greeting the maids and winking at his betrothed.  
"Lady Jane will rest for the next few hours. Please awaken her by three so that she might prepare for this evening. You should also have made ready a plate of meats and cheeses, as well as some fruit for when she awakens. She'll need to eat something prior to our departure. Lady Eleanor, she has asked that you return at three as well so that you may prepare together."  
Eleanor nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. After a most pleasurable evening, she had fallen asleep, warm and safe in his arms, waking only when he nuzzled her neck softly and reminded her that she needed to get back before her absence was discovered. She'd left reluctantly amid kisses and parting touches that left her with a burning ache for more, more of him, more of what he gave her. He was reluctant to have her sneak out of her chambers more than two or three times in the course of their stay anywhere for fear of discovery so he'd regrettably turned down her request to spend the evening together that night upon their return from the court. Now all she could think about was the way he had touched her, the way she had touched him, and she wanted more.

When Eleanor returned to Jane's rooms a little after three she found her friend looking much better. She was less tired and the color had returned to her cheeks, presumably from having eaten something. Her hair was being done, her long dark waves curling softly over her back, the hair half pinned up with a small circle of gold and rubies. Eleanor knew the dress she was wearing this evening was of deepest red with intricate beading at the neckline and waist, flowing down over the front of the skirt. It was quite beautiful and with her dark hair and creamy skin, it set off her complexion beautifully. Eleanor, now as likely to wear blue as ever, had chosen a gown of blue as dark as the evening sky, simple, unadorned but of the richest fabrics. She'd wear her hair up with a coronet of diamonds and sapphires, intentionally chosen to highlight the engagement ring she wore proudly. Her hair had been completed before her arrival and her maids spent the next hours completing her makeup, dressing her, and attiring her in the diamond necklace she had been loaned by her mother. They made their way down to the great hall together and William met them at the bottom of the stairs, bowing slightly as they approached.  
"Sister, his grace would like to see you in his study," he said.  
Jane, who had been under the impression that Charles was already at court and would be meeting her there, had no idea why he was there. She approached the door slowly, knocking softly and listening for him to bid her enter. He was standing before the fireplace, one hand on the mantle, staring onto the flames.  
"Your grace," she greeted softly, a tone of questioning in her voice.  
He turned to her then, taken aback by her beauty. He swallowed hard, uncertain how he had been so fortunate to not only find this beautiful, intelligent woman but to have her fall in love with him as well. He didn't deserve her, his past transgressions, his cruelty to Margaret, all should have prevented him from finding love or happiness but for some reason, God had seen fit to give him Jane.  
"Jane, I…you steal my breath away," he finished.  
"Thank you, your grace."  
"I wanted you to have this," he said, handing a large velvet pouch to her.  
She opened its ties, pulling back its folds and gasped when she saw the ruby necklace and earrings inside.  
"Your grace, this is far too generous. I couldn't possibly accept this. We aren't even…we're not…I am not even your betrothed," she said, hands shaking as she offered back the gift.  
Taking the pouch from her, he took her hands in his.  
"Please accept this gift, Jane. I want you to have it."  
"It is entirely too much."  
"It is hardly enough, but if it makes you feel better, after tonight I will keep it here until we are married and then it can become part of your personal possessions."  
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded.  
He took her hands, kissing them softly and looking into her eyes. He saw the worry reflected there, saw how she attempted to mask her anxiety for him. He'd returned home at William's request. The original plan had been for her to meet him at court but William had dispatched a letter earlier in the day that suggested it would be better if he himself was present to accompany Jane to the palace. He mentioned that she was pale and withdrawn, over anxious, and clearly had not been sleeping for more than a few hours at a time. He'd managed to convince her to rest awhile and to eat something but he knew that she might falter without Charles' support to see her through this.  
"Tonight, my love, you will outshine even the King's consort," he said as she placed the earrings onto her ears.  
Her hands stilled at this pronouncement. Did she want to outshine her? Wouldn't that create tension rather than alleviate it?  
Seeming to sense her anxiety, he clasped the necklace around her neck, hand tracing gently down the soft skin of her neck and back. She leaned into his touch, the one steadying force in a day that had seemingly swirled around her. He placed a soft kiss to her shoulder and felt her shudder slightly beneath his lips.  
"His majesty will expect you to be finely attired, will see it as an insult if you are not and I would be remiss in my love for you if I didn't ensure that you had the finest of jewels."  
His hands squeezed her shoulders and he placed another kiss to her neck.  
"Je t'aime, mon coeur. Tout ira bien," he assured.

The ride to the palace seemed to last interminably and even though Charles held her hand in his own, providing her with his steady comfort and assurance. He could feel her shaking with fear, didn't know what else he could do to alleviate her fears and he hoped that she didn't sense his own concern. Henry had been in a particularly tyrannical mood that day, something Charles had hoped desperately to avoid. He was furious at the slow progress of the meeting of the cardinals that Wolsey had summoned, furious that what he saw as an easily resolved matter was taking so long to be concluded. Despite the fact that Queen Katharine still resided in the palace, Anne Boleyn had all but usurped any small power or attention the Queen had once held from everyone except a small contingent of faithfully devout ladies and the Spanish contingent of ambassadors and servants. It was clear to everyone, most especially Charles, that the tides were changing and that no matter what he had to do, Henry would see that he had his divorce, freeing him to marry who he pleased and to beget the son he so desperately desired. Norfolk and Boleyn had been pressuring him to join their cause and against his own conscience, he would likely do so. He saw no other way to bring down Wolsey.  
Fortunately the King and Lady Anne had yet to be announced when they arrived so they were able to join the crowds somewhat surreptitiously and without much fanfare though there had been a murmur that seemed to ripple through the room at the announcement of Jane's name. He'd squeezed her hand tightly, anchoring her to him, providing the necessary reassurance she needed to continue walking, head held high. He introduced her about to several friends and acquaintances and she was grateful for the presence of William and Eleanor, familiar, friendly faces in a sea of virtual unknowns. A hush filled the crowd as the Duke of Norfolk was announced along with Thomas Boleyn and his son, George. They were followed several minutes later by his eminence, Cardinal Wolsey, and Jane found herself holding her breath. The air in the room was thick with tension despite the revelry of the people around her. Norfolk and the Boleyns on one side, Wolsey on the other. Charles disappeared for a short while, joining in on a whispered conversation with Boleyn and Norfolk and it was clear to her, though perhaps to no one else, that he had made his decision. She felt a moment of panic and prayed silently that whatever was to come of this wouldn't end with him losing his head. For now, all she could do was trust that he knew how to handle this situation far more than she did.  
Shortly after his return to her side, the King was announced along with the Lady Anne and another ripple of astonishment rang through the crowd.  
"What is the issue?" Jane quietly questioned.  
"She's wearing purple, the color of royalty," Charles whispered and she could hear the venom in his tone.  
After they were seated, dinner began to be served, and she picked at her food, unable to eat more than a bite or two of any one item. She'd declined wine for fear of becoming drunk and now was wishing she had taken some, if only to fortify her nerves. As the musicians began to play, she felt, rather than saw the King's eyes upon them and a moment later Charles was pushing himself back from the table and leaning to whisper into her ear.  
"It's time, my love."  
She rose from her chair, smoothing her skirts. Nora sent her an encouraging glance and William smiled and mouthed, "Courage." She took Charles's arm and he led her across the room, to the dais where the King sat, gazing down upon her imperiously.  
"Majesty, may I present the Lady Jane Stafford, daughter of the Earl of Devonshire."  
"Your majesty," she said, curtseying low before him.  
"Lady Jane," he greeted, "Welcome to my court."


	16. Chapter 16

"Majesty, may I present the Lady Jane Stafford, daughter of the Marquess of Hampshire."  
"Your majesty," she said, curtseying low before him.  
"Lady Jane," he greeted, "Welcome to my court."  
"Thank you, your majesty. It is my greatest pleasure to be here at long last," she said, smiling prettily through the lie.  
"Yes, that's right Lady Jane, you have only just come to court this very day, have you not?" a small, imperious female voice asked condescendingly from beside the King.  
She caught the muscle in Charles' jaw clench and tighten at her words and though she wanted nothing more than to remind this young lady that she was no more than the King's courtesan, she bit her tongue.  
"Mistress Anne," she greeted with a small curtsey, "It is true that I have only just come to court this very day but only out of obligation to my father in his time of grief and not for lack of want to be in the presence of his most generous majesty."  
The King smiled at this clear effusion of praise but Anne was not to be deterred. Despite his alliance with her father and uncle, Anne Boleyn loathed Charles Brandon, whether for his charm, his ability to get away with virtually anything, or because of his friendship and closeness to the King, a kind of closeness that even she was not able to offer. So she sought to undermine him and cut him down, embarrass him at every possible turn, if only to remind him that she, and she alone, held the ability to control the King. When her father had returned to court and informed her that the Duke of Suffolk was entertaining the family of the Marquis and that the eldest daughter had not been introduced and was rumored to be quite beautiful and being courted by the Duke himself, she had casually passed this news along to the King who had been bemoaning the absence of his oldest friend at the Christmas season. His majesty had been furious; furious about being kept in the dark, furious that Charles, once again, seemed to be reaching so high once more by choosing a lady of noble birth with a substantial fortune of her own. Had he learned nothing from the situation with Margaret? Did he not understand that he, as Charles' lord and sovereign, was the only one who could determine who he would marry and when? Anne had goaded his ire by reminding him that Charles clearly believed he was higher than the King, that he had abandoned Henry this Christmas season, and that he was choosing a bride for himself when only the King could do that. Finally, Henry had sent his letter, commanding his return to court and demanding that he bring Jane with him.  
"Has your mother not been dead four long years now, Lady Jane? Surely your father's grief has sufficiently declined and would allow you to come to court, would it not?" Anne asked, arching her eyebrows.  
It was a blow to Jane to be reminded of her mother's death and to have her father's grief presumed to be anything less than genuine but determined to not rise to the challenge she saw in Anne's eyes, she smiled, "What you say is all very true, Lady Anne. I have, however, been busy with the raising of my young brother, with helping with the care of my siblings Lucy, Anne and Thomas, and with the care and upkeep of my father's estate, so generously bestowed upon him by your majesty's father," she said, curtseying once more to the King.  
Anne could tell that he was pleased with this young lady's honest responses and with the way she carried herself. She sat back upon the chair, irritated by her inability to get this woman to rise to the bait.  
"Charles tells me you play cards rather well," he said.  
She flushed at this, "I play passably, majesty."  
Henry laughed. "He said that's what you told him before swindling him out of all his winnings."  
Even she was unable to suppress a small smile at the memory of that night.  
"Come, Lady Jane. Come and play cards with me," he said, rising from his chair, and extending his hand to her. Anne was shocked by this, Charles even more so. Neither had anticipated that he would extend such an invitation to Jane. Charles had not even thought to prepare her for what to do in such a case. Anne rose behind him and Charles followed but as they reached the door to the King's private chambers, he turned to them.  
"Alone. The Lady Jane and I shall play alone. There are things we need to discuss," he said, arching an eye at Charles and placing a kiss on Anne's hand.  
Jane shot Charles a pleading, nearly frantic look that communicated her terror and anxiety. Unable to do anything, he smiled reassuringly, nodding his head at her. Anne grimaced, her lips thinning to a straight, pursed line. What did Henry mean by all this?

There were at least four grooms in the room which made her feel slightly less uncomfortable. Surely he wouldn't say or do anything inappropriate with so many sets of eyes.  
"Sit, Lady Jane," he said, pointing to a chair which was immediately pulled out by a groom.  
She did as instructed, sitting across from him at a small table where a deck of cards had been laid out. He dealt and they began to play. He offered wine which she accepted, more so out of concern that to not do so would be rude. They played the first hands in silence, Jane torn between wanting to beat him and wanting to lose, aware as she was as his dislike for losing to anyone. Charles had told her that in order to be permitted back to court after he married Margaret without the King's permission, he not only had to crawl to court but he also had to beat his majesty at an arm wrestling match. This competitive nature, this desire to win at all costs made Jane supremely uncomfortable. If he was willing to gamble with the friendship of his oldest friend what else was he willing to gamble with? She beat him at the conclusion of the hand and he smiled in surprise. It was rare for him to lose to anyone, rarer still to lose to a woman.  
"Tell me, Lady Jane, what do you see in his grace?"  
"Majesty?" she asked, uncertain what he meant.  
"The Duke of Suffolk. What does a young, beautiful woman such as yourself see in a man like Charles Brandon? Surely it's not his wealth or title. You are quite wealthy in your own right and could probably make a comparable match with any number of other men."  
"Your majesty, I…"  
"You know he's incapable of fidelity, Jane. His affairs are far too numerous to mention."  
She was shocked to hear him speak of such things. Though she had heard all of the rumors and though Charles himself had freely admitted being less than discriminate in love, to hear it said to her by the King of England was quite another matter entirely.  
"Your father has written me, assuring me that he is quite certain the Duke's intentions are perfectly noble and letting me know that he would have never let him pay your court if he felt that he would hurt you in any way."  
"If my father feels his grace's intentions are honorable than they must be so, Majesty."  
"Your father doesn't know Charles Brandon as well as I do, doesn't know the young buck who's bedded half of my court or the cruel master that broke my sister's heart and caused her death," he said tightly, his voice clipped with each word.  
She was at a loss for what to say. Was he testing her to see how she would respond? Was he warning her off Charles, preparing to tell her they could no longer see each other? What did all of this mean?  
"I am inclined to allow this courtship to continue if you can best me at another hand of cards."  
Evidently there was nothing his majesty wasn't willing to gamble with; including the hearts and feelings of others.  
She nodded and began to deal, hands trembling slightly. Her hand was terrible and she bit her lip to keep from crying. There was virtually no way she could beat him with these cards and she saw her future pass before her eyes, saw the inevitable good bye she would be forced to give, saw that same remote castle in Wales where the King would certainly exile her now, married to a man many years older who didn't love her. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, praying to open them and find a new and better hand but it was not to be. Instead, they played and it was evident that he would beat her handily, which he did. She let out a small gasp of anguish as he played his final card.  
"Lay down your cards, Jane," he said and she obeyed, placing them down upon the table.  
He looked at her, hands steepled before his mouth as though he was considering what to do next. Jane awaited his pronouncement, his sentence and the final death knell to their short lived relationship. Perhaps if pressed his majesty would permit her to join a convent rather than marry. Surely a life spent in silent prayer and reflection would be far better than the alternative.  
"You may continue you on with his grace as you have been Lady Jane but I would urge you to remind the Duke that everything he has is within my power to take away, including you. He should consider that before making any further decisions without my consent. The next time I may not be so forgiving," he said, pushing back from the table.  
She rose on unsteady legs, curtsied to him as he swept out of the room haughtily. Her mind spun with all that had just occurred. He had brought her there to demean Charles, to teach them both a lesson that his blessing and gifts, once given, could just as easily be taken away.

Charles had watched the heavy door shut behind them and a wave of nausea and panic washed over him. What the devil was Henry playing at? It was clear by the look upon the Lady Anne's face that she was also surprised by this move on the King's part. He made his way to where William and Eleanor sat, pausing briefly to explain Jane's absence and then continuing to pace the length of the Hall, an eye upon the door.  
As he paced, Boleyn approached, nodding to him and causing Charles to cease in his movements.  
"The Marquis' daughter is quite lovely, your grace," he commented.  
"Indeed she is, Boleyn."  
"Do you not find it strange that she has been kept away from court all these long years? Perhaps her father is hiding something, some mental or physical defect that he doesn't wish anyone to discover. How fortunate that you happened upon her at just the right moment," he said and Charles fisted his hands by his side. The absolute gall and indecency of this man was astonishing to him.  
"Be assured, Boleyn, that there is no impediment. Jane Stafford is the picture of piety, chastity, and familial devotion; all qualities which the King himself values," he replied with a curt nod of his head, moving away from the loathsome man once more.  
It was only a moment later when Anne herself appeared at his side, goblet of wine in hand.  
"What do you imagine is going on behind that door, your grace?" she asked suggestively, a smirk playing on her lips.  
Her innuendo, her suggestion at what was going on was both shocking and abhorrent. Clearly the question was meant to place a niggling doubt in his mind as to what had transpired between Jane and the King. It was also an obvious effort to mask her own worry and fears that what was happening was the very same kind of seduction the King himself had used on her. It was part of what Charles feared about bringing her to court. What if the King set his sights upon her? Then all would be really and truly lost.  
"If I were you, I would worry that she will not leave that room as innocent as she entered it," Anne continued, sipping her wine and walking away.  
The twitch of his jaw muscle told her she had struck a nerve but because he needed to remain in his majesty's good graces he could not respond as he wished. He returned to pacing, stopping only when he heard the door creak open and Jane exit, head down, a quickness to her step that concerned him. She reached Eleanor and William first, watched as they drew around her, Eleanor placing an arm around her friend's shoulder. William looked up, spotted him, and made his way across the room.  
"What happened?" he asked lowly.  
"She won't say, but she's obviously upset. She can barely catch her breath. Eleanor and I will take her home and get her settled. Will you come back this evening or should we expect you tomorrow?"  
"I'll be home shortly. Please ask her to wait for me."  
William nodded.  
He attended to the remainder of his business, concluding discussions with several people, saying his farewells, and sending a note to his majesty notifying him that he would return in the morning for the first session of the parliament he had summoned. 

She had not spoken a word on the ride home, had done nothing but stare out the window at the dark sky scattered with stars. Both William and Eleanor exchanged worried looks, unsure what to say or do. Upon reaching his townhouse, they hurried her inside and she went directly to her rooms alone, despite Eleanor's offer to accompany her and help make ready for bed.  
She was already dressed for bed when Charles entered the room, her maids bowing and leaving in haste.  
"Sweetheart," he said, taking her into his arms, "Tell me what has happened."  
He could feel her trembling and he feared that perhaps the King had touched her or told her they were no longer permitted to see each other.  
"He challenged me to a game of cards for his permission to continue to see each other. I lost and just when I thought he was going to tell me to leave court and never see you again, he gave his permission. But Charles, he reminded me that everything you have he has given to you and he can take it away just as quickly."  
He closed his eyes at this information, both relieved and infuriated all at the same time. He had the King's consent, but in the agreement, he had also subjected Jane to the cruelest of reminders. Forcing her to play a game that she stood no chance of winning, watching her lose and agonize over what he was about to do and then granting her a reprieve but only with the most ominous of warnings.  
"It's all right, my love. Everything is fine. We have our permission. You did marvelously, my sweetheart," he soothed, hand caressing her back tenderly.  
He realized she had been crying when he felt the dampness of his shirt. Tilting her head up, he looked at her.  
"What's wrong, Jane? What else has happened?" he asked, stroking her amrs.  
"He told me…he said…he reminded me of your many liasons, told me that you were the reason Margaret died, because of your infidelity and a broken heart, insisted that you could not remain faithful to any woman and certainly not to me," she sobbed.  
His anger was palpable at this. How dare he? How much did he hate Charles to say such things? Why would he say them to her even if some of what he had said was partially true. There had been women, several before he was married, and a few while married to Margaret. There had been another since Margaret's death but since meeting Jane there had been no other and he had no desire for anyone else. If he wasn't so furious it would have been comical given the fact that the King was parading around his whore at court like she was the Queen of England. It was well known that he had already slept with Mistress Anne's sister, Mary and he had a bastard son by Mistress Blount. There were a series of other women, many whom Charles himself had put in the King's way. It was laughable that he was the one insisting Charles had fidelity problems.  
"Sweetheart, I…" he began, but she kissed him, pressing her mouth against his with an urgency that he'd never felt before.  
He pulled away, looking down at her, searching her eyes.  
"Take me to bed, Charles," she said, brown eyes meeting blue.  
"Jane, I.."  
"Why will you not bed me, Charles? Why do you turn me down? I come to you, offering myself freely and you protest. Is it because you don't love me, do you not find me desirable? Tell me. What have I done to offend you?" she asked, her voice practically a shout.  
She had no idea where this boldness was coming from and he was shocked. He'd explained to her over and again why he wanted to wait, despite his burning want for her.  
"Leave, your grace," she whispered, eyes welling with tears.  
"Jane, you're upset and overwhelmed by the events of the day, I don't think now is…"  
"Please leave, your grace. I'd like to go to bed," she said emphatically.  
Unwilling to argue any longer, he bowed slightly to her before bidding her goodnight and leaving the room.  
An hour passed, then two and he lay upon his bed, tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep. He could hear her weeping, had listened to her soft cries for the last hour, heart breaking with each soft gasp and choked cry. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he tossed off his covers and using the door between their chambers entered her room once more. He was in nothing but shorts for sleeping, chest and legs bare. He hadn't even bothered with a robe and it was the most naked he had ever been before her. He pushed aside the sheer curtains that rimmed her bed, coming to kneel on the side as she watched him, eyes red and swollen.  
"Jane," he said softly, voice husky with desire.  
His hands reached for hers the moment hers reached out for him and their fingertips touched, palms pressed together.  
"Charles. My love. Please," she whispered.


	17. Chapter 17

The tension in the air between them was thick. Neither one had moved, their hands still pressed together, his fingers entwined with hers. He was virtually naked, chest completely exposed to her, legs and feet bare and she could barely look at him. It was an overwhelmingly new feeling; this burning want and desire that she felt for him. She'd been courted once, before her mother had died, by a nice enough man, several years older than she who was friendly with her father. He had been nice looking and kind though they shared nothing in common and he seemed more interested in what kinds of benefits marrying the Marquis' daughter might bring. The courtship had ended when Jane's mother had died and though Jane felt relieved that it had never gone farther than a chaste kiss in the garden, she did wonder what her life would be like now if she had married him. Regardless, any small flicker of attraction she had felt towards him was nothing in comparison to the way she felt when she was with Charles, when he looked at her or touched her. It was a burning pain that felt only slightly dampened when he was with her. There were times when he would touch her, a whisper of a hand across hers or the gentle pull of his arm as he led her from one place to the next, and she felt certain she might burst into flames.  
Though he had kissed her many times, she longed for him to do more, longed for him to touch her everywhere, to let him undress her and gaze upon her, yearned to feel his body pressed against hers. Like all women of her station and limited experience, she was hesitant about what would happen when they were naked and alone, worried that perhaps she'd displease him or that her desire for him would make her seem too wanton. She knew only what her mother had shared and though Catherine Howard's descriptions had made the marital bed seem safe and pleasurable, she had always reminded Jane that this was largely because she and her husband the Marquis, were very much in love. She explained to Jane that no matter who she married, whether for love or not, it would be her wifely duty to lay there and accept whatever it was her husband chose to do.  
Now with him here before her, she had no idea what to do. It was true that she had asked for this, had practically begged him to take her maidenhead only a few hours earlier, but now she was panicked and shy.  
"This, my love, is why I asked that we wait," he said quietly, though his hands had not left hers.  
She looked up at him, "But I do want this, Charles. Very much."  
"I don't deny that we are both desirous of the same thing. I don't deny that I lay in my bed at night imagining touching you and being allowed to love you the way I so desperately desire. I won't even deny that I spend more time in confession now than ever before because of the sheer amount of hours I spend thinking about you. I love you, Jane. I desire you alone, above every other woman in the realm and I would never take a mistress simply to satisfy my own lusts. I don't want you to feel as though you have to do this to retain my fidelity."  
"I wouldn't be…"  
"Sweetheart, in the brief time we have spent together, in the things you have shared with me, I have discovered that you would regret this were we not to wait. Consummating our relationship now would bring you only pleasure and fleeting reassurance but the doubt would creep in, the concern over whether you had given yourself to me too freely and too soon with no official promise would soon set in and it would destroy you and whatever faith you have in me as a gentleman. I want you, Jane, but I will not bed you simply to prove to you that I can and will remain faithful."  
He was right, of course. Her longing, though quite real, was also driven by a desire for him to show her that she, and only she, mattered to him. Despite his kindness and the love with which he had spoken his words, despite the fact that he was accurate, she still felt rejected. What man would turn down the offer to bed the woman he claimed to love? Why was he being so obstinate? Desperation set in and she relinquished her hold on his hands, reaching up to the neckline of her shift where the ribbon holding it together was tied. She went to begin undoing the knot and he stilled her hands.  
"Don't, Jane. I beg of you. I will not be able to resist if you do that."  
"I don't want you to resist."  
"You don't want me to resist now, my love. But trust me, you will. And it may not be tomorrow or the day after or even next week but eventually you will feel like I gave you what you asked for only to satisfy my own desires."  
"How do you know what I will feel, Charles? Maybe I will be perfectly contented and happy to have done this, maybe it will demonstrate to me how much you love and care for me, maybe it will…it will make…it will make me feel like you belong to me alone," she finished.  
He looked at her sadly. "And that is not something I can prove to you by taking you to bed. In fact, it's quite the contrary; were I to take you to bed now it would only prove that I desire you, nothing more, nothing less."  
She sighed in frustration, falling back among her sheets and yanking them up her body to cover herself. She felt far more exposed than she had when they had begun this conversation, far more vulnerable and raw than she had anticipated feeling.  
"I think you should go back to Grentham Hall, Jane," he said softly, unable to look at her for fear of seeing the sadness and anxiety that would surely be echoed there.  
"But why, your grace? We've only just arrived and the King expects me at court over the next few evenings and…"  
"His majesty will understand. He's met you and spent time with you individually. I'm sure he's accomplished all he intended tonight. I think it would only make you more anxious to stay."  
"But why must I go? I don't understand."  
"I think you need some time to think about things. I think you need to return home and determine if a life married to me is what you truly desire…"  
"Of course it is, your grace. Why…"  
"Let me finish. Do you desire a marriage to me or do you desire a marriage to the Duke of Suffolk? Because those are, in some respects, two different people and you have to be willing to accept that at times I will have to be the Duke and during those times I won't be a perfect husband to you. I won't be unfaithful to you Jane, but it will seem as though my love and affection for the King takes precedence to you and it will hurt you. You have to be willing to accept that. Further, I think you need to discern whether or not you trust me, completely and absolutely. There will be times when I am here at court and you are at Henham, times when we are parted by activities I must undertake for the King, times when you will be alone and wondering what it is that I am doing. I couldn't bear to think that you were worried I was engaging in an extramarital affair while we were parted."  
She was crying again at the unexpected banishment and at the fact that he was no longer pretending the future would always be rosy and bright and as happy as it had been at Christmas. It was as though he was alternately trying to convince her that it was a poor match for her while at the same time trying to prove himself worthy. She couldn't even look at him, couldn't respond because it felt as though her heart was lodged in her throat. She let out a strangled gasp and nodded quickly, turning her eyes away, biting her lip to prevent herself from sobbing.  
She felt rather than saw him stand from the bed, watched as he walked from the chamber, gently shutting the door behind him.  
Neither one of them slept that night, both too consumed with their own thoughts and fears. Instead of the King banishing her, Charles had and she was devastated. His Majesty hadn't proven to be the obstacle in their way at all, their own insecurities and uncertainties had been. And now neither of them knew where things stood.  
She left early the next morning to the complete puzzlement of both William and Eleanor who had no idea what had happened or why Jane was leaving. She feigned feeling ill, begged to be allowed to return to Grentham to rest and recover. Since Charles remained silent, both Eleanor and William assumed that it had something to do with whatever had happened with the King last night. Eleanor had attempted on several occasions to elicit an answer and Jane had declined to answer, telling her she'd write as soon as she was able.  
William tried as well but she was as stony faced with him as she had been with Eleanor.  
Charles handed her into the carriage, brushing his mouth over hers softly, in what felt like a goodbye kiss rather than the kiss of two people desperately in love. He squeezed her hand and with no final parting words of reassurance, he was gone. The return trip to Grentham was even longer than the one to London only a few days earlier.

Though surprised to see her back so soon, her father had asked no questions, merely allowed her to shut herself up in her chambers for several days. She wrote to Eleanor, a long, rather tearful letter, the pages stained with the places where her tears had smudged the ink. She explained everything, not even omitting the part about her failed attempt at seduction. Each day when the post arrived she'd look for a letter from him, but none was to come. After a week she stopped looking. Eleanor wrote back, reassuring as always, urging Jane to take heart and be courageous in the face of this setback. She further informed her that they had seen little of the Duke given how busy he was with the business of the council that had been commissioned. On the few occasions Eleanor had seen him at court he seemed distracted and unhappy, reviving only momentarily to laugh with or entertain the King. She promised Jane that she would write if she saw or heard anything and then went on to talk about the shopping she had done and the cloth she had found for her wedding gown. Jane knew she was attempting to distract her with other news but she could not focus on anything but Charles.  
The days passed and she continued to hide away in her rooms; not even emerging at Henry's request. At the beginning of March, Eleanor and William returned with carts full of new cloth and all sorts of things for their home. The wedding, to take place on May Day, was growing closer and closer and Jane, while delighted for her brother and friend, could not focus on anything other than Charles. Four weeks turned to six, six turned to eight, eight to ten and not a word from him. She had returned to the world at the coaxing of her father who insisted that locking herself away forever was no way to deal with whatever had happened. He'd gone back and forth between writing to the Duke himself, reprimanding him for treating his daughter so callously and reminding him of the promise he had made to not hurt Jane. It was only at William's promise that the Duke still cared for and desired to make Jane his wife that he relented and let it go. The world had changed so much since he and Catherine had been married. Perhaps this was how things happened now.  
She spent her days in the same fashion she had before Charles had arrived on that blustery November afternoon and turned her world topsy-turvy. She oversaw the running of the household, oversaw the education of her siblings, spent her afternoons with Eleanor, walking through the seemingly endless rooms of Groveton Manor that William had been gifted as their home, assisting with the selection of decorations and furniture and cloth for curtains and upholstery. When Eleanor relinquished her, she'd walk with Henry, Cattalus, and Andromeda, the dog Charles had given her for Christmas. He asked constantly about Charles, where he was, what he was doing, when he would return and give him the shooting lessons he so desired. Jane had no answers for him other than that the Duke was very busy with affairs at court and that she thought he might be coming for William and Eleanor's wedding. She knew she had been invited but had no idea if he would attend or not. Rumors abounded as to what was happening at the English court. It was said that Wolsey, believing himself to be next in line for the papacy, was conniving to have the King's marriage annulled so that he would be free to marry who he pleased. It also seemed that there was a small faction of men, among them Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More, who were adamantly opposed to any such thing occurring. Where Charles stood seemed to be with the King. Eleanor told her that he had written to William indicating that he planned to attend but could not be sure if his schedule would permit such a trip at this time.  
Though everyone did their best to see that she was entertained and kept busy she would, occasionally, have time to herself and she'd spend that time reliving every word of that final conversation with him. She did want to marry him. She understood that there would be sacrifices and times they'd be parted but she still wanted him. And of course she trusted him. He'd never given her reason not to trust him. Why did he think she didn't? She'd go days without a good night's sleep and then a period of time where she could do nothing but sleep, practically falling into bed each evening. To allay the fears of her family, she put on a smile each and every day though her heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces and that she might shatter everywhere if squeezed too hard. She wore the locket he had given her with his picture every day, a way of keeping him close even when he was so far away both physically and emotionally.

It was a glorious early spring day, three days before the wedding and Jane had managed to escape the bustle and flurry of activity currently happening inside the house. Eleanor and William would be married in their family chapel, followed by an elaborate and lavish party for over 200 guests. They would spend their first night as husband and wife in chambers her father had renovated just for them and then they would depart the next day to their own home, two miles away.  
With everyone else occupied with gowns and decorations and food preparation, she had gone for a walk in the gardens, wandering to her favorite spot. The dogwood, magnolia, and cherry wood were in full bloom and the smell of their perfume permeated the air. The pond shimmered in the midday sun and birds chirped happily in the trees. She sat on a bench underneath the trees, branches swaying lightly in the breeze. She closed her eyes for several minutes and she felt a peace that had been missing for several weeks. A flash of an afternoon in this very garden only a few months earlier ran through her mind, a vision of him standing before her, kissing her and promising her a grove of trees such as these at Henham. She smiled to herself. It had been such a promising beginning to their life together.  
Feeling a sudden chill, she realized the sun must have disappeared behind the clouds. Assuming rain was near, she opened her eyes, intent on returning to the castle at once. Instead she realized that someone was standing near, blocking the sun that had been warming her only moments earlier.  
"Charles," she breathed, and for a moment, the world stood still.


	18. Chapter 18

In a second she was in his arms, crushed against his chest, the breath being squeezed from her as he clung to her as though his life depended upon it.  
"Oh my love, I have missed you," he whispered against her hair.  
She couldn't speak, couldn't even formulate a thought. She was grateful for his arms around her waist, holding her up, otherwise she may have collapsed on the spot. He was here; really and truly here in the garden. She was torn between her desperate desire and longing for him and the anger she still felt for his lack of communication these last months. Finally, she lifted her eyes up to him, searching his face.  
"I am so sorry, Jane. I never should have sent you away. I should have written every day professing my love for you and how much your absence pained me. I should have called you back the second the carriage pulled out of the drive. I'm a fool and a prat and I can only hope that you'll let me make it up to you," he said in a torrent of words.  
She looked up at him, bringing a hand to his face, the familiar feel of his stubbled cheek caressing the palm of her hand.  
"If you've been a fool than so have I, my love. I could have written and told you my heart. I could have begged William to speak with you to allow me back. I could have stopped that carriage and come back down the drive to you that very morning. I was rash and stubborn and insistent that you bed me when all I truly desired was your assurance that you were totally committed to me. I should have never doubted your love or faithfulness. I should have never doubted you," she said, her eyes welling with tears.  
He kissed her then, a hard, frantic kiss that spoke of how much he had missed her and how much he desired her. His mouth slanted over hers again and again with an ever increasing intensity and when he slid his tongue into her mouth, she moaned softly. One hand held her firmly against him, the other cupped her face, stroking her cheek and keeping her firmly tethered to him. When he finally pulled away, her lips were swollen with his kisses and her eyes were still shut. Her face was flushed that beautiful pink color he loved and remembered so well and his eyes traveled down to see the locket that he'd given her at Christmas resting on the neckline of her gown.  
"You wear this still?" he asked, holding it in his hand.  
She nodded, "Every day since I've been parted from you. I kept you close to my heart each day, hoping and praying that you'd come back to me," she answered, closing her fingers over his. "Please don't ask me to leave you again," she said, her voice catching on the last word.  
"Oh, sweetheart, never again," he said, drawing her back into his arms once more, "I promise."  
They stood in the garden, amid the swaying trees, flower petals lightly scattering around them for what felt like hours but was easily only minutes.  
"We should go back," she said, "Everyone will wonder where I've been."  
He nodded, reluctantly releasing his hold on her only to take her hand in his once more. Now that she was here, he couldn't bear to not be near her, to not be touching her arm or hand in some small way. When he entered the house with Jane, there was a chorus of cheers at the sight of him. William and her father shook his hand heartily. There were curtsies from the girls and Eleanor who shot a knowing glance in Jane's direction. Thomas and Eleanor's brothers bowed respectfully but Henry, so excited to see Charles once more, forgot himself entirely and rushed straight into the older man's arms.  
"Henry," Charles greeted in delight, "I have missed you," he said, tousling the boy's hair and placing him back upon the ground.  
"Can we go practice with my bow and arrow?" he asked excitedly.  
"Henry!" Jane chided, "The Duke has only just arrived. Perhaps he…"  
"Yes, I promised you lessons, did I not? Just not until after the wedding, all right?"  
"But it's still three days away, your grace," he whined.  
Charles crouched down so that he was face to face with the boy.  
"I know it is. And I know it's hard to wait especially when you have very much wanted to do something or to see someone," he said, squeezing Jane's hand at his words, "But we need a great deal of open space for practicing which means we need the grooms to ride out with us and help us set up targets and I think right now everyone is very busy with the wedding."  
"Are all weddings like this?" he asked.  
"Like what, Master Henry?"  
"Busy and boring?"  
Charles laughed and Jane smiled. It was true that for a five year old it had to seem as if everyone was far too busy to be entertaining him. Even his lessons had been suspended for a few days so that everything could be prepared and so that every pair of available hands was working.  
"Someday, Henry, you'll very much want to be married," Charles assured him.  
"Can I marry Janey? She's the only lady I like," he said matter of factly.  
Now it was Jane's turn to laugh at her impossibly precocious little brother.  
"You cannot marry your sister, I'm afraid. It's against the law. Besides, Lady Jane already has a suitor who wishes to marry her," he said.  
"Who?" Henry asked.  
"Me," he replied, leaning over to give Jane a chaste kiss on her cheek.  
Henry shrugged, seemingly mollified by this answer. "If we can't go practice with my bow, can we at least take Cattalus for a walk?" he asked.  
Charles laughed, "Henry, if a career as a navigator doesn't work out for you, I think you might find yourself a place as one of his majesty's lawyers. And yes, we can take Cattalus for a good, long walk tomorrow."  
Satisfied that he had managed to wheedle something out of the Duke, he raced into the house.  
"I'm not quite certain who missed me more; Henry or you," Charles teased and she turned to him, leaned up and kissed him softly.  
"It was most definitely Henry," she responded with a mischievous smile.  
He grinned at her and watched her walk over to where Eleanor was standing in conversation with one of the servants. And for the first time she had left on that cold, wet January morning, he felt completely at ease.

Over the next few days, he hardly left her side. He seemed able to find her no matter what she was doing and even if the task was far too feminine, he'd linger inside the room or in the door frame just to be able to see her. That first night they'd talked well into the wee hours of the morning, talking about the things he had said in their last conversation, determining where they were going and what lay ahead. Apologies made and forgiveness granted, they were both able to sleep well for the first time in many weeks.  
The next day as she oversaw the decorating of the chapel he explained all that had been happening at court in the last months. The meeting of the English bishops had yielded no results and the case was being sent to Italy to be reviewed by the Holy Father himself. Wolsey would travel to Italy as well though his favor in the sight of the King was beginning to diminish. In spite of the fact that Katharine continued to reside at court and that she and Henry continued to dine together and to share a bed, Anne was omnipresent, as were her father and uncle. Norfolk was undertaking a critical analysis of Wolsey's accounts and of monies collected from various monasteries, abbeys, and other religious houses in an attempt to better understand how he was funneling money from the King's exchequer to his own accounts. Thomas More, a long- time friend and counselor of the King, seemed to also have fallen in his Majesty's estimation for his unwillingness to speak out on this great matter. The court was rife with tension between those who favored the Queen's cause and those who favored the Lady Anne. Everywhere there seemed to be plots and machinations, friend turning against friend, family against family all in a race to see who could come out on top. He assured Jane that he tried to remain as above the fray as possible and in the King's favor. Her response had been a simple, "I trust you to do the right thing," which was all he had needed to hear.  
The only time he left her was to take Henry for the promised long walk and she spied on them as they began their trek through the gardens out to the open fields just beyond its perimeters. From the window she could see Henry running behind Cattalus, occasionally stopping to call something back to Charles. She watched until they were just tiny spots on the horizon, smiling to herself, happy in the knowledge that he seemed to love Henry as much as she did. When they returned several hours later, they found her in the library where she had been reading. Charles lingered in the doorway as Henry rushed forward to present her with the bouquet of flowers he had picked for her.  
"Look, sister, see all the beautiful flowers?" he asked as he handed her the bouquet.  
"I do indeed, good sir. Thank you most kindly for this beautiful gift," she said, bringing the flowers up to inhale their scent.  
"Can I tell you a secret?" he asked in a small whisper.  
"Yes."  
Cupping his hands around her ear, he whispered something to her.  
"He did?" she asked, a small smile playing on her lips.  
"He said they are for the sweetest of ladies."  
Jane flushed at this and looked up to Charles, who was smiling in the doorway.  
"Do you remember what kind of flowers they are, Henry?"  
"Lilies of the valley, Jane. The Duke said they remind him of you because they are so pretty and smell so sweet," he answered loudly.  
"All right, Henry, "Charles said from the door, "I think that's enough secret sharing with the Lady Jane."  
Henry gave her a little bow and skipped from the room, Charles ruffling his hair as he passed.  
"He'll repeat everything you say, your grace," she reminded him.  
"But everything he said was true," he responded, coming to stand before her.  
She rose from her chair and came to stand near him. He leaned his forehead down upon hers, hands cupping her face.  
"They do remind me of you," he said softly, "Because they are very pretty and they do smell lovely."  
"Thank you. That's very sweet of you."  
"And now before Henry comes back in and interrupts us, I'm going to kiss you and take my leave so you can get back to whatever it was you were doing."  
She smiled and tilted her own face up to him. He kissed her softly, brushing his mouth over hers, the faintest of kisses, a promise of much more to come.  
He left her smiling happily with her bouquet of flowers still clutched in her hands.

The morning of the wedding arrived amid a gloriously perfect sunrise; all fiery oranges and bright yellows streaked with red and pink. Jane looked out her window over the gardens and took in the quiet, breathed in the calm of the day before the hustle and bustle began. She was delighted for William and Eleanor but it was strange to imagine her brother in his own home, no longer seeing him at breakfast, no longer being able to talk to him every day. It was similarly bittersweet to think of Eleanor, with whom she had spent nearly every day these last years, being absent from the Hall and busy with the running of a household of her own. Eventually she knew they'd begin their own family and if the few things Eleanor had told her were any indication that would happen sooner rather than later. She knew her own life was about to begin with Charles once he secured the King's permission to become betrothed, knew that she would soon leave Grentham for Henham Park or London and it pained her to think of leaving the only home she had ever known, even if it was for Charles' bed.  
The wedding would take place at 10 followed by the luncheon and then there would be dinner and dancing this evening for all of their guests. Margaret Thrope would be in attendance and both Jane and Eleanor felt a fleeting sense of satisfaction at seeing her face. Jane, Lucy, Anne, and Eleanor's two sisters would act as members of Eleanor's train, all dressed in various shades of blue to match Eleanor's ring. Henry and Eleanor's youngest brother, Richard, would serve as page boys. Once Eleanor was down the aisle, there remained little for them to do and Jane was pleased to be able to stand beside Charles as the ceremony proceeded.  
He'd told her the night before that he would escort her to the chapel where they'd meet Eleanor who had been readied at home, her last night as a maid and an unmarried woman. Descending the stairs of the house, she found him waiting by the door, dashing in his finest outfit of black and gold. His gold chain was slightly askew and she reached up to adjust it.  
"There," she said, smoothing down the front of his jacket.  
"Thank you, my lady," he said.  
"Do you think you might be persuaded to call me Jane when we're alone?" she asked teasingly, echoing his own words to her.  
He laughed, "Thank you, Jane."  
As they were leaving to begin the walk to the chapel he noticed the small bouquet of flowers she carried, lilacs and roses also had lilies of the valley sprinkled throughout it.  
"Did you add those to your bouquet?"  
She shook her head no. "Eleanor's favorites are lilacs and lilies of the valley. William told her he'd plant a lilac bush for every year they weren't able to be together and then another on each of their anniversaries," she said.  
"Then in addition to your grove of trees, I'll have the gardeners plant scores of lilies so you may have them whenever you'd like."  
She squeezed his arm where she was holding on to it and he gave her one of his disarmingly beautiful smiles.  
They parted at the chapel doors, Charles to go stand at the front of the church, Jane to find Eleanor and her father. As he parted from her she had a fleeting vision of her own wedding day, of walking down this same aisle to find him waiting at its end and she found herself unable to stop smiling at the thought. They would be married and it would be soon.


	19. Chapter 19

Eleanor, as happy and delighted as she was about this day, felt a twinge of nervousness. She had nothing to worry about, nothing to fear and she was as anxious to get the ceremony and celebrations over as he was. She longed to be alone with him, longed to be naked and in his arms once more. They had been able to steal a few nights together during their stay at the Duke of Suffolk's London townhome but once they had returned to the country, she had gone home and he had remained at Grentham. They saw each other regularly, practically daily, but there were always so many people about and there was so much to be done in preparation for the wedding that aside from a few stolen kisses and caresses, they had been unable to spend any additional nights together. She knew William was as desirous of the time alone as she was, she could feel the evidence of it every time they had kissed or touched these last days.  
Her scandalous thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door and then the appearance of Jane's head around the corner. Her friend gasped at the sight of her, resplendent in her gown of white with its floral detailing done in thread of gold. The Howard tiara, a gift that had been passed down through the generations to the brides of the family adorned her flaxen looks which had been woven into an intricate updo that made her look as regal as the Queen of England. A veil which draped softly over her back down to the floor was the finishing touch to the gown. She looked like an angel with the light from the chapel stained glass streaming down over her.  
"Oh Nora, you are beautiful," she breathed in a hushed whisper.  
"Thank you, Jane. Really. For everything. I don't think I would have made it to this day had it not been for your advice and counsel when it seemed that we may never be able to be together."  
"Sister," Jane said, folding Nora in to her embrace.  
"Sister," Eleanor said.  
They embraced for a moment and then there was another knock at her door. Eleanor's father was waiting on the other side and Jane hastened out the door to be sure that the remaining girls as well as the pages were in order. From her vantage point at the entrance to the chapel aisle, Jane could see William waiting at its end, handsomely attired in an outfit of white that matched Eleanor's. He was nervous though Jane could not imagine why. He had done nothing but talk about this day for weeks, virtually more obsessive over the details than Eleanor had been. Looking to her left she could make out the head of dark hair belonging to the Duke of Suffolk. It had grown longer since they had last been together and now curled slightly at its ends and she imagined what it would feel like beneath her hands. Shaking the thoughts from her head as the choir began to sing, she watched Eleanor round the corner on the arm of her father, watched William's face alight in rapture as he laid eyes upon her for the first time that day. Jane followed behind the bride with the remainder of her entourage and turned into the pew where Charles was standing. He took her hand as she reached him, squeezing it gently, a reminder that this would soon be them.  
Eleanor had been unable to take her eyes off of William the second they had fallen on him. He wore the dazed grin he got when he looked upon her, his blue eyes flashing in the morning light, his hands twisting nervously at his sides. He'd never seen her look more beautiful, never seen her so regally attired and elegantly poised. The necklace of gold and pearl he'd had commissioned specifically for this occasion lay upon the smooth skin of her breast and highlighted the color of her hair and her gorgeous eyes. He sighed and he watched her lips tilt upwards in a small smile at the noise. Coming to kneel before the priest, he positioned himself to be kneeling but in a way that allowed him to look at her face easily. The Latin words were spoken and prayed, responses were given and rings exchanged, a band of gold for Eleanor, a signet ring for William. Hymns were sung, communion was distributed and then finally, at long last, they were married. He kissed her briefly, a soft whisper of his lips against hers before he led her from the chapel, her hand tucked firmly into the crook of his arm.  
On the other side of the door, out of the sight of prying eyes, he pressed her back against the stone edifice and kissed her most passionately. His tongue swirled inside of her mouth, she nibbled at his lower lip, his hands came to rest on her waist, drawing her closer, flush against his rapidly beating heart and his growing erection. At the sound of footsteps approaching she pulled away from him despite wishing that he would take her into an empty room, push her skirts up, and have her.  
"Wife," he said, kissing the back of her hand.  
"Husband," she replied with a small curtsey.

The luncheon was a short affair only for members of the family and closest friends. Tonight there would be a dinner for all of the neighbors, extended family and friends. They were able to sit next to each other throughout the luncheon and his fingers rested on her thigh underneath the table, drawing lazy patterns over her skirt that left a burn mark on her skin in their wake. He liked watching her face try and remain composed while people approached to speak with them, liked to hear the soft little sighs she'd exhale every so often. If it had been within his power he would have dismissed everyone from the Hall, swiped everything from the table, lifted her skirts and had her then and there. Just the thought of it made him twitch in his breeches and he immediately began to think about sword fighting and jousting, anything to distract him from the beautiful woman sitting beside him. Eventually unable to stand his torment, she had laced her fingers with his, stilling his hand and giving her something to hold on to when what she really wanted to hold onto was hair as he pushed himself inside of her.  
Fortunately because it was only a luncheon, there was no dancing or performers to sit through so it ended relatively early and gave them a small space of time before having to change and prepare for dinner. Even though he would have taken her back to their chambers then and there, he was pulled away by his father and hers to further discuss matters related to her dowry and the various estates and lands that had come into his name upon their marriage. It was the most tedious of tasks and though he could have cared less whether she came with nothing but a cow and some chickens or thousands of acres of land, everything needed to be settled and signed for the marriage truly to have taken place. She found Jane in the library, looking out the large windows at the party gathered out on the lawn. It was mostly family; Thomas, Lucy, and Anne, Eleanor's sisters and younger brother, Richard, Henry, an uncle and two aunts, Eleanor's mother and her brothers, and the Duke of Suffolk. The younger people among them had gathered in a circle for a game of shuttlecock and Jane was smiling at the Duke and Henry who were standing side by side, laughing and fighting to be the one to hit the shuttlecock. Even though it would have been easy for Charles to bat it away every time given his size, he graciously allowed Henry to hit it most of the time, making sure to get in a few hits of his own to make it seem as though he was genuinely playing.  
"He's quite good with him, isn't he?" Eleanor asked from beside her.  
"Yes, quite," Jane responded.  
"He'll be a good father, I think."  
Jane blushed at this.  
"As if you haven't already thought it yourself, Jane Stafford," Eleanor teased.  
"I have thought no such thing, Eleanor Stafford," she retorted, using her friend's new name.  
Eleanor sighed, "How I love the sound of that."  
"Someday it will be Marquess of Wiltshire," Jane reminded.  
"And you will be the Duchess of Suffolk."  
"Yes, I think I will be," she said, "But now, come and tell me all about the dinner and what is planned and who will be attending," Jane finished, linking her arm through Eleanor's.  
They sat in animated discussion for well over an hour and even though Jane was already privy to many of these details, she allowed her friend to enthusiastically share each small thing as though it was the newest piece of information. It was Eleanor's maids who came to collect her, to fix her hair and remove her veil, to see that she rested briefly despite how alive she felt. There were the requisite gasps over the wedding ring and then she was gone.  
Jane supposed she would have to become used to this; only having snippets of time with her friend and even then always coming second to William and to the children they would, no doubt, eventually have. Though the game had ended and everyone had returned inside, presumably to rest and re-attire themselves but Jane continued to stare out the window as the sun began to set, lighting the sky in a blaze of pinks and purples and blues.  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" a familiar male voice asked from behind her, his hand coming to rest upon her shoulder.  
"Very," she answered, leaning back upon his broad chest.  
"Are you tired? It's been a long day," he asked.  
She shook her head. "I'm delighted."  
She felt his smile and the soft kiss he placed on the crown of her head.  
"Will our wedding be like this?" she asked.  
"Our wedding will be whatever you desire it to be, my love," he answered.  
"Then can we just have you and I present with my father and siblings?"  
"I'm afraid, sweetheart, that it would need to be rather more attended than that."  
She sighed. She knew it would but had hoped that perhaps, somehow, they would be able to forgo the lavish ceremony and celebration that would follow.  
"Don't worry, my love, the King will not be in attendance so you do not need to fear that."  
"I know. I don't fear it, Charles, as much as wish it were here already."  
"And I also, Jane."  
He turned her to face him then, kissing first her forehead, then her nose, finally capturing her mouth with his.  
It was as soft and sweet as all of his kisses were. He rarely kissed her with any frenzy or rush, preferring instead to savor each brush of his mouth against hers, each gentle sigh she emitted, the way her mouth would part for his tongue after a few moments. She lived for those kisses, for the way his large hand felt at her waist, tethering her to reality and to his body.  
A knock at the door and the clearing of a throat caused them to jump apart and Jane was both embarrassed and relieved to see William in the doorway.  
"Sister, your grace," he greeted with a knowing smile.  
"Ah, it's the happy groom," Charles said, attempting to mask his own embarrassment at being found in such a position with William's sister on his own wedding day.  
"Indeed, your grace. The happiest of grooms and of men. I was, however, looking for you and had hoped you might meet with my father and I to discuss a few matters."  
Jane raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing.  
"Of course, my lord," he answered and then turned back to Jane, taking her hand and kissing her fingertips softly, "Until this evening, my lady," he said.  
She curtsied to both of them and then they were gone. Whatever could that be about she wondered?

Dinner arrived, not nearly quickly enough for Eleanor or William who both longed to be left alone at last. It was, as ever, an elaborate Grentham Hall affair and Jane imagined that only the King himself had more luxurious parties. The great hall had been transformed into a virtual bower. Garlands of roses and lilacs hung everywhere, the heavy scent of their perfume permeating the air. Candlelight played across the walls casting a glow on the faces of its guests and creating dark corners and shadows for lovers. As they had at the luncheon, they were able to sit side by side once more and she firmly held his hand atop the arm of his chair so that he would be unable to drive her insane with lust for the next hours.  
The feast was lavish and plentiful and Jane knew the servants would be well fed off of the extensive leftovers. Wine flowed freely and the party grew raucous with the laughter of men growing drunk and women growing giddy with the effects of the wine. They danced several times, joining the rest of the merry makers there to celebrate their nuptials and she was able to capture Jane and the Duke dancing and smiling at one another throughout the night as if there were no one else in the room. She could almost imagine that this was their wedding feast rather than her own. William disappeared for a while, participating in some rite of passage that all grooms evidently undertook on the night of their wedding. She couldn't imagine what they were up to, nor did she want to. He returned about an hour later, a little unsteady on his feet and she had to suppress a laugh. Had they gotten him drunk?  
They danced some more and then the minstrels and musicians began their performance, during which he was unable from resting his hand on her lap, so very near to where she most desperately wanted him to be. Finally, after what felt like another six years of waiting, they were permitted to retire for the evening. After bidding good night to their guests and with a parting hug from Jane for both of them, he took her hand in his own and led her to the stairs, leading her down the narrow hallways to the rooms his father had made ready specifically for them.  
"Wife," he said, as they reached the door to her chambers, "I shall expect you shortly," he said, kissing her hand and leaving her in the hallway.  
She released a shaky breath and opened the door to her room, to her future.


	20. Chapter 20

NSFW

Using the door that led from his chambers to hers, he pushed it open slowly, listening to it creak on its hinges, hoping that it was giving her the warning she needed to finish whatever she was doing. Despite having already done this several glorious times before, it felt different this evening. He was relieved to have the hard part; the pain and soreness for her overcome, relieved to know that he was not only capable of pleasuring her but that she in fact, looked for him to bring her pleasure. She was an eager learner, wanted to please him as well, wanted to know which of her touches and kisses would bring him the greatest pleasure. He not only loved her but desired her in a way that left him breathless with want and awake half the night for thoughts of her.  
He rounded the corner slightly to find her laying upon the bed, naked as the day she was born, her blonde waves unpinned and flowing down over her shoulders, barely covering her breasts. He could make out her hazy form through the sheer curtain panels that lined the bed and the candles cast a glow upon her that seemed to give her an angelic halo. He swallowed hard, unable to focus on anything except the beautiful creature before him.

"Husband," she greeted seductively, her voice like a jolt straight to his groin.

"Wife," he said, parting the curtains and looking down at her.

He realized she was lying among scattered rose petals, her head leaning on one hand, the other hand splayed over her tiny waist showing both her engagement and wedding rings. As if in slow motion, he kneeled upon the bed, crawling towards her like a tiger stalking its prey. She reached for him at the same time he bent his head down and their lips met, a rushed pressing of soft skin against soft skin. His lips were both demanding and tender all at once and she couldn't imagine ever tiring of feeling them pressed to her own or to other parts of her body. He pushed her back onto the pillows, pinning her hands above her head and kissing her repeatedly until she was rubbing herself against him.

"Are you hungry, my lady?" he asked, pulling away from her.

"What? William. I'm confused, "she began but he'd already left the bed and crossed the room to a small table in front of the fire. Her maids had left out a bowl of fruit along with wine, assuming she would need it to allay any fears. They had been so covert, so clandestine in their meetings that they had managed to not only avoid suspicion, but detection as well. Her maids still believed her to be a virgin and had thusly prepared her, whispering soothing and kind words, reminding her that it would soon be over and that if she was lucky, would only have to endure it very rarely. They'd attired her in the finest gown of silk that she owned, a long, virginal gown of white that covered her from foot to throat. She imagined it had been picked out by her mother who envisioned that her daughter would want to be as covered as possible, presumably because she assumed that William would simply lift the hem of her gown, do his business and then take his leave of her. Her mother really had quite an appalling view of the marital bed despite having 5 children. After Eleanor had dismissed her ladies, adding the appropriate sighs and trembling to act like the nervous virgin she was meant to be, she locked the door to her chambers and prepared to meet him.  
He plucked a piece of fruit from the bowl, using the nearby knife to cut into it, a little of its juices spilling on to his fingers. She watched as he licked each one, breath catching at the sight of him. She was confused. They had eaten a large lunch and then another large dinner. How could he possibly be hungry? Especially when she was laying in the bed the way she was. As he reached the bed once more, he came to kneel before her, cracking open the pomegranate he held in his hands. She watched wide-eyed and breathless as he devoured the seeds inside and then licking his lips slowly. Her back arched involuntarily, almost as if his hands were upon her and it was his mouth doing that to her instead of to a piece of fruit. He didn't fail to notice the reaction his actions had caused and his eyes met hers over the top of the fruit.

"Would you like some, my love? I can see that you are quite hungry," he said.

She nodded and as he lowered the fruit from his own mouth, she sat up slightly, assuming he was about to bring it to her mouth. Instead he pulled at her leg until she was lying down once more and he began to drip the juices over her body. He drew a line over her collarbone and then circled her breasts, nipples already pert and erect. He made a line from her breasts to her stomach and then stopped, placing the fruit aside and coming to kneel between her legs. As he licked the tangy juice from her collarbone she moaned his name softly and he grinned against her skin. He moved to her breasts next, running his tongue around the outside of her breast, skimming over the sensitive skin on the underside and then licking in small strokes until he took her nipple between his teeth, biting her gently. She gripped his hair, arching her back, pushing her breast into his mouth and whimpering slightly. He continued to suckle at her for a few moments, long enough to have her moving her hips in desperation. He looked up at her, the grin of a naughty school boy upon his face, "Be still, Ellie," he ordered, though she had no idea how she could do so when he was touching her the way he was. He helped by pressing one of his large hands into her hip, holding her firmly against the mattress as his mouth began its journey once more over her other breast. He repeated the same motions on the other side and then licked down her stomach, swirling his tongue around her navel causing her to laugh. It was a beautiful sound that lilting laugh of hers and his favorite sound only after the way she whispered his name and the way she moaned and sighed when she was naked beneath him.

As he reached the juncture of her thighs he parted them with one hand while reaching for the uneaten piece of fruit beside her. He took a bite of the seeds and then brought his mouth straight to her private parts. His mouth lapped at her clit, softly at first and then with a bit more force. She groaned, her toes curling back in pleasure, her hands grasping the sheets beneath her. He stopped, took another bite, and licked her once more. The tendon in her thigh pulsed under his hand and he knew she was already close to climax despite the fact that he'd hardly done anything at all. He continued this routine; taking a bite of fruit, licking over her sensitive nub, pausing a moment to look at her, to watch the waves of desire break across her face. Soon the fruit was finished, far too sign in his opinion, and she was slick with arousal. Her juices had coated his tongue and mouth and he'd forever associate the taste of her with pomegranates. Wanting to make her climax, he continued to lap at her, finally adding first one finger and then a second. His fingers rubbed over the same spot he'd found when they'd last been able to do this in London, crooking inside of her, slowly stoking the embers that burnt inside. She was quivering, her walls tightening around his fingers and he knew she was ready, knew she wanted to let go so he whispered into her ear and she shuddered her way through a nearly violent orgasm that left her spent among the pillows and sheets. He licked her straight through the vicious shudders that racked her body, lapping every drop of moisture that seeped from her and when he looked up at her, her eyes were shut and she was panting for breath.

When she finally opened her eyes, he was propped up on his arm beside her, staring down at her adoringly.

"You will be the death of me," she whispered, placing a hand to his face.

"I think, wife, it is the other way around," he replied, circling his tongue around her earlobe.

"Oh, William," she murmured, a shock coursing through her at his simple caress.

"Yes, Ellie?" he questioned.

"Please, my lord, please," she begged, a look of desperation and want burning in her eyes.

"Please, what?" he asked, feigning that he did not know what she was asking for.

"I need…I want…oh, please don't make me say it," she said, closing her eyes, unable to look at him out of embarrassment.

He leaned down close to her ear, brushing her hair off of her face.

"My love, you may tell me anything you desire. I don't want you to be embarrassed or fear to tell me if there is something I can do to bring you pleasure," he coaxed, placing soft kisses along her temple.

Not certain she was able to yet vocalize what it was she wanted, she reached her hand down and ran her fingers over his protruding shaft.

"This, William. I want this," she said, blushing and causing her skin to flush a lovely shade of pink.

Ready to teach her something new, anxious to show her how many ways he could please her he asked her to roll over onto her stomach.

"What?" she asked in confusion. Didn't they need to be face to face to do this or at least lying down? He'd never taken her any other way other than flat upon her back or while she lay on her side. What could he possibly mean by having her roll over?

"Trust me, my love," he soothed, helping her to move, "Now, you know that in dance there are many different movements, correct?"

She nodded.

"Good. Now, in dance, there are times when we dance to the left or to the right, there are times when we touch fingers or times when we clasp hands, correct?"

Another small nod.

"Lovemaking is just like that, sweet Ellie. We can do all of the things we have already done with you on your back or with me lying on my side behind you. I can pleasure you by having you sit astride my lap or by pressing you up against a wall and lifting your skirts and pressing myself inside of you. I can also have you like this, by lifting your hips like this and placing myself inside of you." As he spoke, he had positioned her body so that her hips and backside rose in the air, creating a triangle with her body. He slipped a finger inside of her and she gasped at the new angle. There was a flicker of discomfort as her body adjusted and then he began to stroke her, reminding her once more how good it felt when he did this.

"May I try this, my love?" he asked, leaning over her.

She bit her lip.

"Yes, my lord," she answered and he could hear the uncertainty in her voice despite the fact that he knew his finger inside of her was obviously arousing her.

"Ellie, my dear, sweet wife, If you dislike it, you'll ask me to stop and we can go right back to the other things we've done."

"No," she replied with a shake of her head, "No, I trust you."

It was those words that shattered his self-control and he brought the head of his erection to her opening. He slid in slowly, half an inch at a time, letting her relax against the new angle, feeling her release the hold she had upon her breath, letting her push back against him, causing him to plunge more deeply. He groaned loudly and she whimpered. Though she would never say so to him, the feel of him inside of her, rocking against her, making her his, was the most incredible feeling she had ever known. He stretched her and with each time they did this she was able to take more and more of him. He stopped for a moment, hand running over her back and then he began to move inside of her with slow, prolonged thrusts. He fell forward, drawing her to her knees and she moaned at the feel of him hard and full inside of her. He was thrusting more deeply, the angle hitting spots she did not know existed and he took her hands in his, drawing them back and placing them upon his thighs. As he pumped in and out of her he kissed her neck, her shoulders, hands grasping at her breasts, thumbs swirling over her rigid nipples while she moaned his name.

His cock flew in and out of her in a slick haze. Good God she was so wet and tight and so supple and lithe beneath his hands. He pushed her forward once more, hands at her hips, pulling on her so forcefully he feared he would bruise her. At the end his lust took over and he leaned over, kissing her neck and then biting a spot he knew was among her most sensitive with a little bit of forcefulness. She climaxed then, another burst of liquid coating his cock, making him move faster and harder. With three more thrusts he was gripping her shoulder and crying out her name. They collapsed onto the bed though he was careful not to fall onto her and neither one of them was able to speak for a long time. His hand found hers and his thumb stroked circles around her palm as their breathing resumed a normal pattern.

"Was that sufficient for a wedding night, my wife?" he asked.

"More than sufficient, husband," she responded with a grin, coming to prop herself up on her elbow beside him.

She traced lines over his features; familiarizing herself with the angle of his eyes, the slope of his chin and cheekbones, the way his muscles rippled and pulled beneath her hands.

"You are very handsome, William."

"And you, my love, are quite beautiful.

Her hand moved down his shoulders, over his waist to where the hair on his stomach began to v until it dipped into the line above his pants

"Ellie. Sweetheart. You don't have to…" he began.

"I want to," she insisted, "I want to touch you and kiss you there until you are unable to take it," she finished, her hands softly moving over her.

And there would be no protest from his lips.


	21. Chapter 21

_**NSFW, 18+ content contained within.**_

They'd fallen asleep sometime after 2 a.m., his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close as they slumbered. After the pomegranate, she'd done exactly what she had said she would, licking and kissing and touching his penis with the lightest of caresses. She'd begun with the things she already knew he enjoyed; the swirling of a fingertip over its head, kissing the soft skin there while running her tongue around it, tasting the salty tang of his arousal. When her kisses caused it to slip a little further into her mouth he groaned loudly.

"Are you all right, husband?" she asked, worried that she'd hurt him in some way.

"Quite," he responded gruffly, his hips moving of their own volition.

"Do you like this?" she asked, bringing her mouth to his penis once more and taking him a little further.

He groaned again, incapable of coherent thought.

She continued this for several minutes, bobbing her head up and down his now solid shaft, enjoying the way he murmured her name and gripped her shoulders. She was only able to sustain these motions for a few minutes having had no prior practice or experience with this. And he understood that when she began to slow down, that she was tired and incapable of much more. He stopped her then, lifting her head up and drawing her body up his. She could feel the sharp press of his pelvis against the inside of her thighs, could feel how hard he'd become from just the touch of her mouth, could feel the roll and pull of his abdominal muscles beneath her hands.

"I…I don't know what to do, William," she said.

"The same thing we've been doing, love, only this time, you'll be the one on top of me," he said.

"But how?" she asked.

"Like this, sweetheart," he said, drawing her hand down to his erection.

He shifted slightly to help line up his head with her entrance, then he lifted her just a bit and seated her upon the tip of his erection.  
"This way, you can take as much or as little of me as you'd like," he said, though it was exceedingly difficult to not thrust up into her as he so desired.

He would find though that his patience would be rewarded. She moved herself forward slowly, hands moving across his stomach and then up his chest. With each movement he could feel himself slipping inside of her further in further. She was gasping with her own movements, unable to process how no matter what he did to her, it always seemed to feel better than the time before. Just before she reached his mouth, she rotated her hips slightly and he groaned as he felt himself fill her completely. She whimpered and he looked at her.

"Are you hurt? Is it too much?" he asked in concern.

"No. No, my love. It feels…it feels amazing," she finished, words catching in her throat.

"My God, you are the most beautiful woman to ever walk the Earth, Eleanor Stafford," he said and she smiled down at him. It was the first time he'd called her by her married name and hearing it upon his lips, spoken so sweetly, and with so much love, drove her insane with lust.

She brushed her mouth over his and his hands reached up to caress the sides of her breasts, now flattened against his chest. In doing so, she began to slide herself up and down his shaft, her movements increasing in frequency and urgency the more she realized how good it felt. She raised herself up off his chest after several frenzied minutes and began to bounce more vigorously upon his lap. If she had been able to think at all she would have been appalled by her behavior, appalled by how willingly she agreed to these new and supposedly scandalous acts, appalled even further by how much she enjoyed and desired them.

He lay beneath her, moving his hips in time with hers and staring at her beautiful face as it flushed with her arousal and the pleasure these actions were bringing. He had been so worried that it would take months before she would experience any pleasure from this, months before she allowed him to show her anything new or different and instead she overwhelmed him with her passion and the lack of shame she clearly felt when they were alone together. There could have been no greater gift than her utter loyalty, devotion, and openness to him. He reveled in watching her; loved the way her lips parted as she took him particularly deeply, loved the sounds of her sighs and moans and whimpers as the waves of pleasure rolled through her, and he especially loved to watch her pert breasts sway as she rode him. Unable to take any more, he reached up to knead her breasts, stroking and teasing the nipples into even tighter peaks. A rush of her arousal coated his cock and he gripped her hip as he continued to tease one of her breasts. He moved more frenetically, raising his own backside from the bed as he pushed into her.

"Ellie…Ellie…oh, my love…Ellie," he growled as he impaled himself into her again and again.

Her moans had turned into short gasps and cries and he could tell her climax was impending by the way her nails raked over his chest and how she had shut her eyes and the fact that her movements had slowed. Reaching between their joined bodies, he pressed his thumb to her clit and she shattered around him, pulsing hard and fast, squeezing his cock tightly and he grunted his way through an orgasm of his own. Satisfied once more, she collapsed upon his chest and he drew circles on her back as they panted and heaved. When her breathing had slowed and evened, he realized she was asleep. Carefully rolling to the side, he drew her back into his arms, pulling the covers up over them once more.

He left her sleeping peacefully in her bed the next morning as he slipped away to chapel to give thanks to God for granting him such a beautiful, sweet, and adoring wife. Jane was already there, quietly praying her rosary and she didn't look up as he made his own prayers. He had always been faster than she, always had less time for the tedium of rote prayers like the rosary so he was already completed by the time she finished her final decade.

"Good morrow, sister," he greeted as she exited the chapel doors.

She jumped in surprise. It was unexpected that he had waited for her, especially on this morning of all mornings.

"William. Brother. Good morrow," she returned, with a quick curtsey.

A moment of awkward silence passed between them.

"I trust the Lady Stafford is well this morning," Jane said and immediately blushed at what that statement presupposed.

Seeing her discomfort, he laughed, "She is quite well, Jane. Quite well," he added with emphasis and Jane blushed even more deeply.

This was her brother saying these things and she was both relieved for Eleanor and mortified that he would be making such statements to her. Of course Eleanor had shared a little with her friend, explaining things they had done in the most generic of terms so as not to embarrass Jane or to make herself seem too wanton. But to hear it confirmed, even in the most circumspect of terms, by her brother was painfully awkward, despite how close they were.

"Ah, good morrow, William, Lady Jane," a familiar male voice said rounding the corner.

Jane had never been more grateful for Charles' presence than at that moment.

"Your grace," they both said in tandem.

"I see everyone has risen early today," he commented, "I must admit to being quite surprised to see you here this morning, William."

"Your grace, I came to give thanks to God for granting me such a lovely, sweet, and generous wife."

"Ah, our reasons then are similar, for you see, I came to give thanks for granting me such a devout, kind, and gracious lady," he said, pointedly looking at Jane.

"Charles!" she exclaimed, her face a bright red. Could this conversation actually be happening?

A moment later both Charles and William burst into laughter and she looked up at them.

"You're intentionally mocking me," she said.

"Teasing, sister, teasing. You are so easily embarrassed by these things, we thought to have a little fun."

"A little fun at my expense."

"No, Jane, as a brother to a sister, one final time before we are parted," William said much more seriously.

She felt the tears welling in her eyes, stinging the backs of them.

"Oh William," she said, stepping into his embrace, "How will I manage without you?" she asked, voice choking on a sob.

"You will be fine, dearest sister. You have always been the most steady among us. And, I am pleased to say that I am leaving you in the most wonderful hands," he said.

Jane wiped her tears and released her brother, turning back to Charles.

"You have left me in the most wonderful hands," she agreed, taking the hands of her beloved into her own. Charles smiled at her.

"And now, I must away to my chambers and to my wife for we are soon to part Grentham,"William said.

Jane turned back to her brother for a final parting hug. Everything would be different now.

"Fare thee well, brother," she said softly.

"Good bye, sweet Jane. We shall be together soon, I think," he said, "Your grace, I ask only that you take care of this, my most beloved sister."

"It shall be my greatest privilege and honor, Sir William," Charles answered.

With a small bow to both of them, he was gone and Jane felt her resolve crumble, felt herself begin to stagger until a pair of strong arms steadied her and then drew them around her as she cried into the front of his jacket.

After she had composed herself sufficiently, he walked her to her chambers. With virtually anyone else she would have been mortified to have let down her guard in such a fashion but with Charles, it felt perfectly safe and natural. She was immensely grateful that William had thought to have him present, knowing she would need his calm, reliable presence to help her. She kept to her rooms for the remainder of the day, unable even to go to the window to watch them depart. It was like losing her mother all over again, except this time the sword pierced her heart twice as hard for she was losing not only her brother, but also her dearest and closest friend. She knew they would see each other again but it would never be the same as it was before and even though she was overjoyed for both William and Eleanor, she couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for herself. In a few days Charles would leave once more for London, their future only slightly more settled than it had been at Christmastime. And though life at Grentham would certainly carry on and though she'd still have Henry to keep her occupied, the three biggest parts of her life would all be otherwise occupied.

After two days of not seeing her, Charles plotted a way to lure her from her seclusion. He knew she was sad, knew she was missing her brother and Eleanor, a double loss that he practically felt for her. It reminded him of being banished from court after marrying Mary, being out of the King's favor and out of his presence. It had been like losing a brother and his dearest friend all at once. So, he concocted a plan he knew she would be unable to resist.

She was at her writing desk, completing a letter to a friend when her maid announced Henry. She smiled and turned towards the door.

"Sister," he greeted with a little bow.

"Master Henry," she returned, "Come see me."

He crossed the room to her.

"I've come to ask if you will ride out with us?" he asked.

"Us?"

"His grace, the Duke of Suffolk and I. He is going to take me out to use my bow and arrow," he said.

"Ah, but perhaps you would rather have him to yourself, my lord," she said.

Henry shook his head no. "Please, Janey. We've had a picnic prepared and the Duke sent the grooms to set up a tent so you could rest while we practiced. He said that he would not take me unless you came as well."

Jane would have to remember to scold him for using her brother to manipulate her.

"Well, I suppose if there is a tent and a picnic, I cannot very well say no, can I?"

Henry beamed, "May I go and tell his grace that you will come?"

"You may."

He ran from the room and Jane summoned her maids, having them attire her in a riding gown of silvery grey.

He greeted her at the door where the horses had been stationed, kissing her gloved hands gently.

"You could have come and asked me to ride out yourself," she said, her voice low.

"But you can resist me. I am not sure you can resist Henry," he replied.

"I'm not sure I could resist you, your grace," she answered, leaning up onto her toes to brush her mouth over his.

"Jane," he sighed. It was becoming harder and harder to be with her and to keep his own rules.

They rode several miles out, well away from the house or where anyone else might pass by and the tent along with the targets had already been set up. He helped Jane dismount and she went over to sit in the nearby tent. Tables and chairs had been set up for lunch, a blanket was lain out across the ground, pillows scattered over it, presumably so she could watch them or read or rest. Accepting a goblet of wine from a groom, she situated herself upon the blanket and looked out at them. Charles had removed his jacket and was now in only his leather breeches, white shirt, a leather vest and his boots. She sighed at the sight of him. He was so strong and athletic, his broad shoulders moving as he showed Henry how to hold the bow and to place the arrow. It amazed her that he could be so strong and still so tender with her. They were far enough from her that she could not hear what he was saying to Henry but she watched as he patiently explained each part of the bow and arrow, and then helped Henry to place an arrow and release it. His first shots were far removed from the target and Charles had to offer not only lessons in how to shoot, but also bolster his young charge's esteem. And so it went for quite some time, Charles helping to load the bow, Henry aiming but falling short of the target each time.

"I'll never be able to do it," Henry complained glumly.

"Yes, you will. You just have to keep practicing," he said encouragingly.

"Will you show me again how you do it, your grace?"

Charles nodded and loaded his bow once more, aiming for the center of the target and releasing the arrow after a moment. It didn't quite hit the center but was close enough that Henry clapped in delight.

In his excitement, Henry picked up the bow and arrow he had been given and loaded them once more and then he turned to be sure Jane was watching. The next thing he knew, he was being spun around, the bow and arrow falling swiftly to the ground.

"Henry!" Charles yelled, "We never load and point an arrow anywhere but at a target. Do you understand me?"

Trembling now the little boy shook his head.

"If I ever see you do that again, I shall take you over my knee and thrash you soundly," Charles continued, his hands on the shoulders of the young boy, looking into his eyes.

Henry nodded once more, his lip trembling as he tried to keep from crying.

"It's all right, lad," Charles said gently, patting the boy's head, "It's all right. But you must always remember to load and point only at the desired target and never at anyone you do not mean to harm. Understood?"

Henry shook his head, wiping his tears away. All had been forgiven and it was a lesson he would not soon forget.

They continued at it a while longer, Henry finally getting the arrow to hit the target and Jane applauded from her spot beneath the tent.

"Well done, Henry!" she exclaimed.

Eventually they retired to the tent for lunch and Henry excitedly told her everything the Duke had taught him, including the most important rule of all, never point an arrow at someone or something other than the target. After lunch, he went to play with his toy soldiers on the blanket while they talked further about the affairs of the court. Eventually they realized he had fallen asleep amid the pillows.

"It must be lovely to be so young and carefree," Charles commented as Jane covered Henry with a blanket.

"I wish I had known you when you were so young and carefree, my love," she said, taking his hand as he helped her up.

He laughed, "I am still young, sweetheart."

"But not so carefree, I fear."

He looked at her, "No, not quite so carefree," he relented.

They walked away from the tent, through the meadow, up the hill to where they could look out over the lake and the gardens, all the way to the house which was but a mere speck.

"I know you think me young and unaware of the ways of the court. I know you are certainly more informed about the workings of his majesty's mind than I, but I hope, Charles, that you know you may always unburden yourself to me, free of judgment," she said.

He cupped her face in his hand, rubbing his thumb over her cheek gently.

"I do, my love, and I thank you for that. I fear that I do not know what troubles me, perhaps it is the King's desire for a son above duty to his own conscience. It may be the infestation of the Boleyn whore and her family, circling about the court like a pack of rabid dogs, always whispering into the King's ear. Maybe still it is the treatment of Queen Katharine, who was always kind to me and now sees me as an enemy. It is a tangled web, my love, and one that I wish I could spare you from."

"I love you, Charles and no matter how snarled and twisted the web becomes, I will still love you above all others," she said.

"Sweetheart, you have no idea how much it pleases me to hear you say so."

They stood together, his hand holding hers, tracing small circles over her palm.

"Jane, I…" he began but was interrupted by the sound of approaching horses and the call of his name.

The rider dismounted upon seeing them, rushing forward and bowing to them before handing Charles a letter that bore the seal of the King.

He unfolded the letter quickly, scanning its contents.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath.

"What is it, your grace?"

"I've been summoned back to court."

"Now? But I thought you had the rest of the week."

"I did but it seems that Cardinal Campeggio, the papal emissary is expected the day after tomorrow and I must return with all haste as they resume the council once more."

She nodded, disappointed, but determined not to let it show for fear of burdening him even more.

The next morning he left hastily, though they were able to steal a kiss before her father appeared to bid him farewell.

"I'll write," he said, "And Jane, I intend to ask for his permission when this council is concluded."

She smiled, "Write and tell me everything, my love."

And then he was gone, leaving Jane to her quiet life in the country without her closest companions or her most beloved Charles.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two 

_My dearest Jane,  
I do not have long to write before I am summoned to return to the council once more. Things are not going to his majesty's pleasure and he fears that Wolsey is delaying the annulment. The Queen herself testified in court yesterday; she pled with the King, beseeching him to remember the great love she bears for him. There was more testimony today from an alleged groom of Prince Arthur. I will spare you the unsavory details but suffice to say, he spoke in the most abhorrent and basest of terms. The Lady Anne is ever present, acting as head of the court in all but name. Campeggio listens intently but I do not believe he has any intention of making a decision. Rather, I think he hopes to delay so that the college of cardinals are on summer break and no decision can be made until they are back in session in October. I miss you, my love, and long to see you and hold you in my arms once more. I will return to you as soon as I am able. Until then I remain your loving and most devoted servant-  
Charles _

It was now the middle of June and though he had written nearly every day, she still felt the pain of his absence most acutely. Adding to her sadness was the fact that Eleanor and William would both soon be leaving for London and the court themselves. Evidently everyone else would see more of him than she would. She felt more alone than ever before and it seemed to feel as if a decision about his Majesty's marriage would never be reached. She began to fear that Charles' words would be true, that no decision would be reached and that his majesty, in his anger, would deny Charles' request. Masking every feeling of uncertainty, worry, and the cold dread that occasionally crept over her, she would write him long, loving letters in response; letters that detailed all that was happening at Grentham, all that was taking place with her sisters and with Thomas and Henry. She wrote about the gardens, flowering in full bloom and she wrote about the sunsets he was missing. She always expressed her love and admiration, reminding him of her unwavering loyalty and her support for whatever he needed to do for the King.

Charles was more than capable of reading between the lines of these letters, of understanding how sad she was, how tired she had grown of waiting while it felt as if everyone around her was wedded and bedded. Though she never said it, he knew Lucy, only sixteen, had a suitor and Jane was convinced that she would see yet another sibling married before her own wedding. He too, was growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress being made over this decision. It was clear that Henry had no intention of taking no for an answer and would go out of his way to make sure he had the answer he needed so he was able to do as he pleased. In the interim, Katharine had been all but banished and he now had to deal with the presence of Anne Boleyn and her flock of relatives and followers at every turn. It was clear to everyone, the King included, that there was no love lost between his paramour and closest friend and though Charles did his best to mask his disgust and antipathy for her, he was not always successful. Finally, after weeks of agonizing, he asked the King for a private audience, no longer able to stand the wait and thinking that perhaps permission might be more freely given if there was still hope a decision would be reached.

"What is it you wished to speak with me about, Charles?" Henry asked as they wandered through the gardens.

"Majesty, I've come to ask for your permission to marry Lady Jane Stafford."

Henry paused for a moment and seemed to deliberate.

"No."

"No?" Charles was convinced he'd heard incorrectly.

"Perhaps in another year or two. But for now, no."

"Majesty, I..."

"You reach too high, Charles. First the sister of the King and now the daughter of one of the wealthiest landowners in the realm? I think not."

Charles seethed in silent anger. Despite the fact that he had been made Duke of Suffolk, a title which actually made him higher than her family, the King was choosing to remind him that he was, in fact, a nobody, risen through the ranks simply because of his good fortune at being the King's friend.

"If I were you, I would turn my sights elsewhere," Henry continued, "I've heard the Lady Cavendish is recently widowed and once again looking for a husband."

The Lady Cavendish was easily 20 years his senior and also a relative of the Boleyn's.

"If your majesty agrees, I would just as soon as wait until you are ready to give your permission than look elsewhere."

"If it pleases your grace, but my generosity may be long in the coming," Henry remarked imperiously.

"Is this punishment for my feelings about the Lady Anne?" he asked bluntly, unable to stop his anger.

The King turned and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat.

"My answer is no because I am the King. You would do well to remember that everything you have can be taken as quickly as it was bestowed!"

He released Charles with a shove, smoothing his own coat.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, your grace, I have some urgent matters to attend to."

"Majesty," Charles responded with a bow as the King brushed by.

He returned to his chambers, forcibly slamming the door behind him, causing his groom to jump.

"Summon the Earl of Devonshire immediately," he barked and the young man practically sprinted from the room.

He picked up a nearby pitcher of water, tossing it to the ground in anger and frustration.  
 _I reach too high_ , he thought. Yes, of course, because desiring a marriage was certainly far more high reaching than expecting the Holy Father to say one's marriage was invalid simply so one might dip his wick elsewhere.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing in anger and frustration. Perhaps in a year or two, the King had said but a year or two may as well have been an eternity. He had wanted to settle this now, today. Wanted to be able to ride to Grentham Hall, sweep her into his arms and tell her they could be together at last. And now, it appeared, he'd be able to tell her nothing of the sort.

He heard a door open and shut, heard his groom announce the Earl and when he turned to face his would be brother in law, William's expression appeared panicked.

"They told me you needed to see me most urgently, my grace. Is all well? You have not had bad news from Grentham?"

"He said no."

William looked puzzled for a moment and then sudden realization dawned.

"No?"

"No."

"Did he give a reason?"

Charles stalked about the room angrily, like a lion pacing in its cage.

"He didn't need to. He's doing it to punish me; for Margaret, for finding happiness when he cannot, for having the freedom to marry who I please, when I please, without fear of starting a war or bringing calamity to the realm," he said tersely.

"But, Charles, surely he can be persuaded. You've said yourself that he desires you to remarry."

"The Lady Cavendish. He urged me to marry the Lady Cavendish."

"Isn't she..."

"A relative of the Boleyn whore?" he asked, his voice nearly a shout.

"Your grace," William said, eyeing the door, silently reminding him of the presence of his servants just beyond the oak panel.

"Yes, she is related to Mistress Boleyn and many years older than I," he said again, voice quieter.

"What will you tell Jane?" William asked, mind immediately thinking of how heartbroken his sister would be as a result.

"The truth. That I've asked and been denied but that he will come around as he always does."

"And what if he doesn't?"

He shook his head at William.

"He will. Even if I have to fight a battle for it."  
If Charles had known how prophetic his words would turn out to be, he would have uttered something different.

He dispatched a groom with a letter to Jane. He was honest; explaining his conversation with the King and reassuring her that he would marry her as soon as possible. He could imagine the heartbreak she'd feel upon reading that letter, knew she'd be worried that he'd do something brash and headstrong, knew she'd fear the worst, that perhaps he'd fall in love with someone else and if not in love then at least into the bed of another because as the months

He was seething with anger at Henry, knew he'd been goaded into this  
by his consort who'd taken one look at Jane, knew she'd have to hold her own against her and because she was spiteful and vindictive and wanted no one else to be happy if she could not be, she'd forced him to say no.

He slammed his fist down upon the table in rage and frustration and sadness. This was not how it was supposed to happen.

When the rider came up the drive, Jane rushed out the door to greet him. He handed down a letter and Jane tore into it, recognizing the seal at once. She scanned the letter, her heart shattering into a million pieces at his words. Even the reassurance he offered could not make her feel better. He had been denied. They had been denied and would be unable to marry, perhaps for as long as another year or two and with this never ending council and his command to stay at court, he would most certainly find another woman whom he could marry. It was the very worst of news and the tears she had held back for weeks finally overflowed down her face. It was only a short while later when a second rider appeared, this one coming at an even faster clip than its predecessor. Her father, hearing all of the commotion, came out the front door as Jane opened the second letter with the same familiar seal.

 _Dearest,  
I have been dispatched to Calais to put down a rebellion at his majesty's command. I do not know when or if I shall be able to write but be assured of my love and fidelity. All will be well, Jane. Please pray for my safe return and for my victory, my love.  
I remain your most loving and devoted servant-  
Charles_

Jane collapsed to the ground, the letter fluttering to the ground beside her. Her father rushed to her, picking up the letter as one of her maids assisted her back up. He read the letter quickly, looking to see what had caused his normally implacable daughter so much concern. And then, realizing the source of her worry, he drew her into his arms, soothing her as she sobbed into his shirt.


	23. Chapter 23

23

June turned to July and the weather turned uncharacteristically damp and cold. Jane felt it mirrored her soul. The news from Calais was depressing, the rebels would not surrender, would not parlay, and so instead the troops fought on, greatly depleted due to the bloody flux that raged, killing hundreds every day. All of Jane's news, none of it good, came through letters she received from Eleanor or William, both still at court, both privy to information she was not. As Charles had predicted, Cardinal Campeggio declared himself unable to make a decision on such a great matter alone and determined that it must return to Rome for a final decision by the college of cardinals and the Pope. Of course, because they were all on summer recess, this meant the decision would not be able to be considered until October. The King was said to be furious with Wolsey and with anyone who dared to impede his desires. Rumors swirled that the Lady Anne had refused to become his mistress and so the King, usually acquainted with having whatever it was he wanted, was being thwarted on all sides. She worried hourly about Charles, praying incessantly night and day for his safe return.

In late July there was a note from Eleanor; she and William were returning home that very day. The sweating sickness had broken out in London and hundreds were already dead. The King had shut himself up in his chambers, dismissing virtually everyone from court. Worse still, the Lady Anne had lost a maid and was now on her way back to Hever Castle at the King's command. There was a state of bedlam and martial law at work in London while the King shut himself away. William, wanting to escape the panic over the sweat, also wished to be as far removed from the chaos as possible. Though the promise of their return provided Jane with a spot of brightness, it could not dampen her fear or worry for Charles.

Returned home once more to their country estate, William felt remarkably more at ease. He hated life at court with its endless banquets and masques, the gossip and idle chatter, the air of desperation that clung to the Queen and the ridiculous way that Anne Boleyn paraded herself about. He went only a few times a year out of duty and to check that his London townhome was being maintained in the way it should be. Without the presence of the Duke and other nobles with whom he was friendly due to the rebellion in Calais, it was an even colder place than before. He was grateful to have Eleanor with him, grateful for the time they had been so generously given by family and friends alike to bask in their newfound marital bliss and though he missed his friends, he was also grateful for their absence as it gave him more time with her. At the beginning, they had hardly left their chambers for days and it was only when his groom reminded him that the King did, in fact, expect him at court, that he had relinquished her from his bed.

She found him busily occupied with the affairs of the estate at his desk in his study and she opened the door, smiling at the sight of him, head bent over some papers, hand writing furiously. He was biting his lip as he did when he was concentrating and she grinned to herself. He had been wearing that very same look earlier that morning in bed. She was blissfully happy, more so than she could have ever thought imaginable. William was kind and attentive, a voracious and insatiable lover but ever mindful of her pleasure as well. He was patient and strong, brave, and absolutely loyal and she loved him with every fiber of her being. Despite her great joy, she was worried for Jane who made no secret of her fears to Eleanor. She was devastated by the fact that the King had denied Charles permission to wed her, further devastated by his exile to Calais where he now was caught in battle. She was worried about his safety, worried that they would never be able to marry, worried that he would fall in love with another. Eleanor, unable to allay any of her fears, did her best to listen attentively, to offer regular prayers for the Duke, and to reassure Jane whenever she could.

"Husband," she greeted, entering the room.

"Wife, what brings you here?" he asked, looking up from tedious paperwork.

"I missed you, my lord," she said softly, crossing the room towards him.

He turned his chair slightly and beckoned her towards him.

"Come and sit, my love," he said, motioning to his lap and she did as he asked, wrapping her arms about his neck and sighing as she did.

"Are you well, my love?"

"I am now," she said, twirling his hair with her fingers.

"You cannot possibly miss me that much, Ellie. I barely just left you abed," he whispered, his tongue circling the shell of her ear.

She sighed again, her hand gripping his hair and drawing him closer, "Oh, but, my love, an hour without you is like losing the sun," she answered.

He dragged his mouth from her ear to her mouth, tilting her head back and kissing her.

He was seconds away from sweeping everything on his desk to the floor and having her then and there upon his desk but a knock at the door interrupted them. She rose from his lap and went to the window while he called out entry to the groom.

"My lord, a most urgent letter has arrived for you," the groom said, handing the letter to William.

He opened the letter quickly and scanned its contents. She watched his face change from happy to more serious within the span of seconds and he called for the groom, "Have the master of the horse prepare two horses for the Lady Stafford and I. We ride for Grentham immediately."

Eleanor looked at him, "William, is all well at Grentham? Is it your father?"

"No. We need to go see Jane immediately."

"But why? Is she ill?"

"No, but the Duke of Suffolk is," he said.

"What?" Eleanor asked.

"The rebels were suppressed, a peace treaty reached. On the return to Henham he fell ill with the sweat. His secretary writes that he fears the Duke will not survive the week."

Eleanor's eyes shut at the news. To survive a battle only to fall ill on the way home seemed the cruelest of punishments. She could only imagine Jane's reaction to this news. It was bad enough that they had been separated by the King's capriciousness and own unhappiness but now to lose him before he was ever able to be truly hers seemed far too cruel a fate.

"You must come with me, dearest. I fear I cannot tell her this alone."

Eleanor nodded, leaving the room to fetch her riding gloves and cape.

The ride to Grentham was much faster on horseback than by carriage and it took them little less than an hour to reach the estate. While William searched out his father, Eleanor sought to find Jane. She was out in the gardens with Andromeda and she stood in delight as soon as she saw Eleanor round the corner, "Sister, we were not expecting you!" she said happily.

Eleanor smiled but saw Jane's face turn from delighted to grim in the space of a second as William and her father rounded the corner behind her.  
"No. No. Whatever it is you have to tell me, don't. I can't bear to hear it," she said, clapping her hands over her ears like a small child who was throwing a fit.

William took her into his arms, holding her tightly as she struggled to flee, struggled to move, hoping to awaken from whatever nightmare she was currently having as William explained the situation as calmly as he could.

"He is not dead, Jane. Not yet," William said softly and as gently as he could.

"Not dead yet, you say, but he may as well be. No one survives the sweat, William. No one. He is not God. He will die and that will be the end of me. I cannot live without him," she sobbed.

"You must calm yourself, sister."

"I cannot, William. I can no longer pretend to be well when everything is going so horribly wrong. I will never be married, never see my children grow. I will wither away here like an old maid while the rest of the world moves on and I remain like a statue, cracking and decaying with age."

"Hush, Jane. You must not say such things. You must pray for his recovery. You must pray…"

"Why? Prayer has failed me. It is as though God no longer hears me, no longer knows me or my voice. He has abandoned me entirely, even in this," she wept and everyone was taken aback. Jane had always been one of the most faithful people William and the Marquis had known.

"Sister. Jane, you must calm down. You do not mean these things," William soothed.

"Let me go," she said, shaking off his hold and heading towards the path that led to the house. She only made it a few steps before she seemed to crumple before them. The Marquis and Eleanor caught her between them.

"She's fainted, William," Eleanor said.

They carried her to the door of the house where they were met by the grooms who helped them the rest of the way to her chambers.

The physician was summoned and confirmed what they all already knew. She had suffered a great shock and required quiet and rest and nothing that would excite her. He offered to bleed her, suggesting that it might allow some of the bad humors which ailed her to seep from her body but William and her father declined.

She didn't awaken for a full day, finally coming to in the late evening of the second day. William and Eleanor had not left instead they sent for their things and together they had remained by her bedside. There had been no further word from the Duke's secretary, no indication as to what might be happening. William had considered riding to Henham himself but been dissuaded by his father who reminded him that he had a wife now to care for and that he would be of no use to her if he, too, was dead of the sweat. She didn't speak for days, barely ate except when William or Eleanor insisted. Only then would she drink a little tea or sip at some broth and then only to appease them. They took shifts, waiting for her to speak, Eleanor in the mornings and early afternoons, William after tea and through dinner. They both found themselves having one sided conversations about everything that was happening at the estate. Eleanor described the way the flowers were growing in the meadow and how the days were beginning to shorten. William talked about fishing and how the tenants farms were fairing. They all avoided anything having to do with the court, the King, or with Charles. Two weeks passed and though she was up during the day, she kept mostly to herself, preferring the solitude of the chapel, though unable to pray and the dark, cool chambers that had been used to house him during his last stay. She saw his ghost everywhere; in the gardens and the Hall, in the library and most especially whenever she saw Henry. She knew Eleanor, William, and her father were all worried and she wanted to be able to calm their fears but she felt so broken that she couldn't even summon the strength to do more than eat occasionally and walk about the house. There had been no word from Henham so finally, unable to wait any longer, and against his father's pleas, William set out to ride to the Duke's country estate and find out what he could.

"Come back to me, my love," Eleanor had whispered, letting down the stoic guard she had put up these last weeks.

"Have no doubt that I will, my lady," he had answered, kissing her softly.

Two days after William had left, Eleanor had managed to persuade Jane to go for a ramble through the gardens. Jane had agreed, hoping that it would demonstrate that she was appreciative of all her cherished friend was doing for her. They walked slowly, talking occasionally though mostly silently, taking in the beautiful weather and scenery. Eleanor's dog, Athena ran ahead with Andromeda and the silence would be periodically broken by their calls to the dogs. Athena disappeared around a bend and Eleanor went to chase after her, leaving Jane alone in one of the small groves that housed the statue of the Virgin Mary she had always adored. She lay a small bouquet of flowers upon the base, offering a short but apologetic prayer and then concluding with a Hail Mary before crossing herself. She turned and gasped in shock. Surely she was losing her mind because before her stood Charles, a little leaner than when she had last seen him, his hair grown a little longer, but as much flesh and bone as she was. With a sob and forgetting herself entirely, she rushed into his arms, practically crushing her mouth to his, her hands frantic on his chest and back, feeling him, assuring herself he was real.

They did nothing but kiss and hold each other for several long minutes, nothing but reassure themselves and each other that all was well. She kissed his face, his eyes and nose, cheeks and mouth, devouring each touch of his lips to hers, feeling her heart begin to piece itself together with each touch, each glance, each kiss. He breathed her in, holding her so closely he worried he might leave bruises from gripping her so tightly. He had fallen ill on the way back from Calais, only miles from Henham. The sweat had struck him hard and fast with a force that left him half dead. In and out of fevered delirium, he had heard the whispered pronouncements of his physicians and grooms and when he managed to survive night after night the voices seemed to grow a little more confident. After seven days of burning and feeling like his insides were being twisted and torn that he awoke, pale, gaunt, and weakened but without a fever. He'd recovered slowly, building up his strength a day at a time, his recovery always focused on returning to her. As soon as he was able, he summoned for his horse and left Henham, riding like one of the seven horsemen of the apocalypse straight to Grentham.

"I thought you had died. I thought I'd never see you again, that you'd left me and my life was over," she sobbed into his jacket.

"I told you I would never leave you again, my love," he soothed, stroking her hair and shushing her as she wept.

Eleanor, finally having caught Athena, came back into view and nearly fainted at the sight before her.

"Your grace," she said, curtseying, "We thought…I…It's a miracle," she breathed.

"Eleanor," he greeted warmly, "I am most delighted to see you."

"But what of William, your grace? Has he returned with you?"  
Confused, Charles looked at the two women before him.

"He left the day before yesterday to ride to Henham and find out what had happened to you. We had heard nothing," Eleanor explained.

"We must have missed each other in the passing," Charles explained, "But the weather has been fair so he has surely arrived by now and is likely on his way back as we speak."

Eleanor nodded in relief. Surely if the Duke was here, there was no threat of anyone else falling ill.

"And you are well, your grace?" Eleanor asked.

"I am better by the minute being in the presence of two such lovely ladies" he said, taking Jane's hand and kissing it.

They walked back to the estate and the Marquis came rushing from his study when he heard Jane's cries echoing through the Hall. Delighted at the sight of the Duke, he warmly embraced the younger man. The rest of Jane's family, so aware of the loss she faced, were equally as happy, particularly Henry who couldn't understand why his sister had been so sad, especially whenever he seemed to be around. He launched himself into Charles' arms and Charles grunted softly.

"Easy, Henry. The Duke has been quite ill," Jane said gently.

"I am beyond pleased to see you Master Henry. I do believe you have grown at least three inches since I last saw you," he said.

"Are you here to stay, your grace?"

"Yes. For as long as I can. And for as long as Jane and your father will permit me."

"You are most welcome, your grace," the Marquis said.

"Always," Jane echoed, squeezing his hand tightly in her own.


	24. Chapter 24

**NSFW: 18+ content contained within.**

Dinner that evening was a loud and celebratory affair. William had returned only hours after the Duke. He'd met one of the servants along the road who'd told him the Duke was well and headed for Grentham. Without stopping, he'd ridden back through the night. Jane looked the best she had in weeks, smiling, eyes alight with joy and relief. She'd worn a favorite gown of his; a pale pink gown of taffeta that shimmered in the candlelight and made her seem even more beautiful than she already was. They sat side by side, her hand on his, as if she needed to be touching him just to remind herself that he was there. He'd had to urge her to eat, urge her to relinquish her hold on his hand so he could as well and even then, her fingers rested lightly on his leg. William and Eleanor had, in private, and in quiet tones, explained all that had happened in the last two weeks; from the arrival of the note at their home to telling Jane to the days that followed when she didn't speak, hardly ate, and could barely be persuaded to leave her bed. They asked about the King, about news from the court, about news of the Lady Anne, who, it seemed, had also survived her bout with the sweat. The King was said to be greatly relieved though he had yet to see her for fear that the infection might spread to him. He was well pleased with Charles' handling of the rebellion at Calais and even more pleased that his dearest friend had survived the sweat as well. Before riding for Grentham, he had sent word to the King that he was doing so but would return to court and wished to speak with him at that time. He was certain that the King knew what this would be about and though he could not be certain his question would be answered any more favorably this time, he would persist until he had his permission.

"Don't persist so much that you risk losing your head, your grace," Eleanor cautioned, causing both William and Charles to laugh.

"I see it is not only Jane who worries excessively," Charles commented.

"It is the loveliest trait of the Stafford women, your grace. Their love leads them to unnecessary worry," William replied, kissing Eleanor's hand.

"When will you return to your estate?" Charles asked.

"Within a few days time. Affairs there are well seen to and it has been several months since we have been here and spent time among our families. We'll ride out to see Eleanor's family within the next few days as well. "

Charles nodded.

"How long until you must return to court?" William asked, taking a sip of wine.

"Two days. I promised to join the King by week's end but I do hope to be there only a day or two to ensure the King I am well and then return to Grentham."  
"We wish you well on your journey, your grace," William said knowingly.

Before bed, Jane found herself on her knees in the chapel, thanking God for returning Charles to her. Her prayers were both of thanks and of apology and she felt more peace than she had in weeks. She had not had much time to herself with Charles as everyone was delighted to see him and so aside from the first moments alone in the garden and being seated beside each other at dinner, she had been unable to truly speak to him all night. She was desperate for time alone, time to speak, time to reassure herself that he was all right. He still looked a bit pale to her, had clearly lost some weight, and though it was obvious that his appetite had returned, she wanted to place her hands to his head and make sure he had no fever, no sign of any sickness at all.

Unfortunately it seemed that he had retired to bed by the time she returned to the Hall and while she could not fault him for needing the rest, she found herself more than a little disappointed that he had left without bidding her goodnight. She retired to her own chambers, her maids undressing her and letting down her hair, combing it until it shone. They dressed her in a shift of white, prettily adorned with ribbons at the shoulders and at her wrists. They gave her a lightweight summer robe, a pretty floral pattern that swirled in pinks and purples and she dismissed them all so she could read for a little while before retiring.  
Her mind swirled with thought and knowing she would be unable to rest until she had seen him and said good night, she gave up trying to read and determined to go and see him. The halls were empty, flickering with the light from the torches and she was able to make her way to his door quickly and without interruption. Before she was able to knock, the door opened and Charles was standing there in naught but his shirt, breeches, and boots.

"Jane," he said in surprise.

"I'm sorry, your grace, I had to come and say good night," she said.

He smiled at her.

"I was just coming to do the same thing," he remarked with a bashful grin.

"So, good night then, your grace," she said softly, curtseying slightly before turning to go.

"Jane," he said, touching her hand as she turned.

It was as though a flame had burnt her fingertips but instead of recoiling, she sought more. She let him entwine his fingers with hers, let him draw her to him, let him kiss her with a softness that would be her undoing.

She pulled away, hard though it was, "You must stop, Charles."

He looked as though he'd been slapped. She'd never asked him to cease kissing her, always seemed to seek more, in fact, and the sudden rejection left him wondering. She saw the look cross his face, knew he was confused.

"If you keep kissing me, my love, I will not be able to stop. Not now, not after nearly losing you. If you kiss me, I want, no, I need more of you and you have already said we may not until we are married but after all of this, after worrying every day that you'd die in battle or then to the sweat, I will not be able to stop. I need you far too much," she said, the words rushing from her mouth in a torrent, her eyes cast upon the floor.

He tilted her chin up with his hand, his thumb stroking her cheek softly, staring into her eyes with such love and devotion she could barely breathe.  
"I will no longer deny you, Jane," he said a moment before he brought his mouth to hers once more.

She moaned into his mouth and he deepened the kiss, mouth slanting over hers repeatedly, tongue teasing hers.

He took her hand and drew her into his chambers, shutting the door behind him and leading her from his entry room to the bedroom which lay just beyond.  
She'd been in this room a thousand times before, she'd shared a bed with him but now, to be standing here, about to do the one thing she had yearned for these many months, she felt shy and nervous.

"We do not have to do this, Jane. We can talk or I can hold you, whatever you want," he said softly.

She shook her head at him, "No, your grace. I want to be yours entirely, body and soul," she whispered, meeting his gaze, looking into those blue eyes that she knew and loved, that shone with his reassurance.

"Come to me, my love," he said and she took the three steps between them, into his arms, where he began to kiss her once more.  
The kisses, the sweetness and love with which they were bestowed, shattered any small remnant of resistance she still had. Her hands wound about his neck as her fingers toyed softly with the hair at the nape of his neck. He stopped kissing her and her hands began to wander, over his face, tracing the lines of his cheeks and lips, pausing briefly at the indentation in his chin which she leaned up to kiss, causing him to grin.

"You quite like doing that," he noted.

She blushed, a lovely pink hue that spread through her cheeks and made her even more radiant in the candlelight.

"May I?" he asked, hands coming to rest on her shoulders where he lifted the shoulders of her robe slightly.

She nodded, allowing him to slide the fabric from her shoulders and the robe to fall to the floor. His eyes wandered over her, even clothed he could make out the faint outline of her breasts and the slim taper of her waist.

She brought her hands to his chest, pressing her palms against the solid feel of him, feeling how warm he was.

"I don't think I shall ever be cold with you, your grace."

"I intend for you not to be," he replied, watching as her explorations continued. She undid the tie of his shirt, pushing it over his shoulder, her fingers gently drawing a line over a small scar on the edge of his chest.

"What is this from?" she asked.

"That is from being hit by a sword when I was ten or eleven," he said.

She kissed it and he released a shaky breath.

"I want to kiss every wound you've ever had," she said, her hands pushing his shirt further apart, her hands running over the coarse hair that covered his chest.

She'd seen him without his shirt once before, remembered that he was quite hairy, remembered wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.  
"Will you take off your shirt for me?" she asked, stepping back from him as he lifted it over his head and discarded it near her robe.

Her hands ran over him, finger nails scraping over his nipples and he moaned unintentionally at her touch.

"I feel…well…I'm not sure what I feel," she said.

She felt lightheaded and a bit breathless, the fiery tongue of a serpent licked at her stomach, something tightened like a fist inside of her.

"Do you feel like you are faint? Perhaps like you might fall if I let go of you?"

She nodded.

'It's desire, my love. It's your body's way of telling you that you want me to make love to you," he explained, his hand caressing her face once more.

"Is that what you will do to me?" she asked.

"Well, I had rather hoped we would do it together, sweetheart. It's vastly more enjoyable for both persons involved."

"Will you take me to bed?" she asked.

He lifted her easily into his arms, carrying her across the room to the bed. He pushed aside the sheer panels that surrounded the bed and placed her at its center, coming to lie beside her. He kissed her again, a slow building of lips and tongues and soon she was moving beneath him. Her body searching for something, anything. His hands reached for the ribbons at her shoulders, untying them slowly and then looking into her eyes for any sign of fear or resistance, seeing none, he continued in his pursuits, slowly drawing the gown down her waist, exposing her naked breasts to him.  
"My God you are beautiful," he said, his voice husky with want.

"Charles, I…" she began and then his hand caressed over her breast and she gasped. It was the most amazing feeling. Seeing her reaction, he repeated his action again, hand stroking over her breast. He did it again and again, using both hands to caress both breasts. Her chest was ample and he wanted to do nothing but touch her, to lose himself there. She was gasping, panting at his touches and he knew they had waited far too long to do this. He had been so obstinate, so desirous of proving himself worthy that he had very nearly missed out on ever having the chance to touch her as he was now. He kissed her collarbone, down the center of her chest and then captured the peak of one stiff nipple in his mouth.

"Charles!" she cried out in shock, but it quickly gave way to pleasure as his tongue swept over the sensitive bud again and again, ending with a light bite before moving on to the other side. Her hands threaded through his hair and he could feel it breaking at the root as she tugged and pulled when he suckled at her. While his mouth worked on one breast, his hand worked on the other, keeping her nipples exquisitely sensitive to his every touch and lick. Her hips were moving, seeking, looking for something she could not name or define.

His mouth came back to hers with increasing urgency and he positioned himself so he was lying between her legs. He was still fully clothed from the waist down but he could feel himself beginning to stiffen. He kissed down her stomach, pausing briefly to draw her gown down the rest of her body. He leaned back on his heels to look at her, fully exposed to him for the first time and for a moment, she considered covering herself with her hands but he was looking at her with such adoration, such worship, she let herself bask in his gaze.

"My love, are you sure?" he asked, because once this reached a certain point, he would be unable to stop.

She nodded, reaching for him, drawing him to her, relishing in the feel of his naked chest pressed against hers. He kissed her a while more and then sat up to remove his boots and breeches. He left his shorts on, not wanting to scare her with his total nakedness.

"You are the most handsome man I have ever seen," she breathed.

"I hope to be the only man you have ever seen," he said teasingly and she flushed, "I was teasing, Jane. I know this is all mine," he finished, running a hand over her prone form.

"I fear, my love, that I may disappoint you. I am not worldly and have only the basest of knowledge about what is to come and I think…"

"Jane, you could never disappoint me. You come to me freely, willingly, and lovingly. I am besotted by you, desire you above all others, want to possess you and worship you. But you could never disappoint me because I love you."

"I love you too, Charles," she whispered back, a hand to his face, gently stroking.

"Then let me show you how much," he said, kissing his way down her prone form until he reached her sex. She braced herself, assuming the moment had arrived and preparing for the pain she had been warned of over and over. Instead, she felt his hands spreading her legs, felt his breath, warm on the inside of her thigh, felt his tongue flick out over her clit.

She cried out and he stopped, looking up to make sure she wasn't in pain. Assured that all was well, he lapped at her again, drawing her legs further apart and giving himself ample access to the spot he most wanted. He drew circles with his tongue around the bud of her desire and he grinned at her frantic little moans and the way her hips moved, at the feel of the tendon of her thigh as it stretched beneath his hand. Certain that she was wet and ready, he slid his finger inside of her, moving slowly, half an inch at a time, watching her eyes adjust at first to the feel of his hand inside of her and then to the pleasure it brought. He moved in and out of her slick heat, finger pumping in time with her gasps and he added a second finger a moment later. She clutched his hair at the new intrusion. Certainly everything she had heard about this had been wrong. She began to believe that everyone who had told her this was a duty to be suffered and endured was a vile liar. Her body was doing things she didn't know it could, reacting of its own accord, opening to him as though he was the key to its lock.

He continued to work on her, moving his fingers inside of her, crooking them just so as his mouth and tongue worked on her clit, sucking and lapping and teasing. She felt the serpent inside of her unfurl, felt its tongue lash her with its fiery flames. She was writhing beneath him, hips rising, and she began to whine as her head thrashed back and forth amongst the pillows.

"Don't fight it, dearest. Allow me to give you the greatest pleasure there is," he said softly, "Let go for me, Jane. Give me all of you, my love," he whispered, licking at her once more.

The fiery flames burst within her, spreading from her stomach, straight through her body and she was convinced that if she had been able to open her eyes, there would have been flames shooting from her toes. She gasped and spluttered, panting and heaving as he lay beside her, one hand splayed across her stomach, the other used to prop his head up so he could watch the waves of pleasure wash over her face. Long moments later her eyes fluttered open and she was immediately seized with embarrassment, reaching for the sheets to cover herself. He stilled her hands.

"You do not need to be embarrassed with me, my love. You are exquisite and I hope to learn every mark and curve of this glorious body of yours," he said against her ear, kissing her temple.

She yawned, a most unladylike move, and he laughed.

"Tired of me already?"

"Never, your grace."

He moved slightly and she felt the evidence of his desire against her thigh.

"Do you want to do more?" she asked, softly.

"More of what, sweetheart?"

"I know I am not well versed in this but I do know that in order for this to be completed you must put yourself inside of me."

"Well, when you say it like that it makes it sound so pleasurable," he laughed.

"Charles, don't laugh. I'm not sure…I don't…I've never…"

"Shh, it's all right. I'll teach you," he said, reaching for the buttons of his shorts, shoving them down with one hand and leaning back slightly.

She was looking at him, staring at his erection wide eyed with fear and he realized it had been a mistake to show her so quickly.

"That will not fit," she insisted in a panic.

"Sweetheart, I assure you, it will," he said, hand rubbing over her leg.

"No. It's impossible. It's too big. You will break me in half."

He would have laughed at that if he hadn't been so worried about her reaction.

"Jane. Do you remember how good it felt when I just used my mouth and hands on you?"

She nodded, eyes never moving from his cock.

"It can feel even better when I put my penis inside of you," he said.

"But I thought it would hurt," she said.

Not wanting to lie, he nodded. "It will for a little while, until your body adjusts to me but eventually it will feel even better than what we just did."

"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly.

"I'm positive, my love. But if you don't like it, we never have to do it again," he promised.

She kissed him then, a familiar touch that settled her and alleviated her fears. He let her set the pace, let her kiss him, let her hands wander over his body, stroking his chest. He caressed her breasts, rubbing himself against her clit as he did, reminding her that pleasure could be had by this. Her breathy sighs of his name, her hand upon his chest over his heart was his undoing. Unable to restrain himself further, he spread her legs and positioned the tip of his thick cock at her entrance.

He slid in, feeling how wet and tight she was and he was only half an inch inside of her. It was a struggle to control himself, to not thrust inside of her with a forceful surge, to not just make her his. Instead he proceeded slowly, watching her face, seeing her adjust to the new sensations. She was a beautiful goddess, lying beneath him, giving herself to him with such tenderness, love, and devotion. He continued the slow push until he felt the small barrier of resistance.

"I'm sorry, my love," he whispered, pushing hard and breaking through her maidenhead until he was seated fully inside of her.

She'd cried out when he'd thrust into her, felt the tears of pain sting the back of her eyes, felt him still above her, letting her adjust, to breathe, to relax once more. She moved after a moment, the brief sting of pain replaced by a feeling of pleasure at the move.

"Jane," he gasped, his forehead pressed against hers.

"Please, Charles. Please, my love. Make me yours."

His control snapped and he began to move inside of her, slowly at first and then with a little more force, each thrust eliciting a small gasp from her and loud groans and grunts from him. She was tight, so infernally tight that he'd never be able to last so he focused on trying to pleasure her, taking his time, kissing her, massaging her breasts and when he felt her walls begin to pulse and tighten around him, he swirled his thumb over her clit and she fell into a thousand pieces beneath him. With two more thrusts he spent himself inside of her, groaning at how good it felt. His arms gave out from beneath him and he collapsed half on her, half on the bed, spent and satisfied.

He drew her to him, nuzzling her neck and causing her to laugh.

"You are the most exceptionally amazing woman I have ever known," he said.

"Was it…did I…well…are you satisfied, my lord?"

"Quite," he answered against her hair.

She grinned at this, "I find that I am quite satisfied as well."

He laughed.

"Jane, you are a delight."

Pulling the covers up over them, he turned her so they were face to face. He watched her eyes flutter as he combed the tangles he had created from her hair, felt her breathing begin to slow and before she dozed off completely she whispered that she loved him and cuddled herself more closely against his solid form. And as he lay there with her naked in his arms, finally his in every way, he gave a prayer of thanks for allowing him to survive.


	25. Chapter 25

Eleanor and William had retired to their chambers shortly after ten. He was exhausted from riding non-stop for two days, she just longed to hold him. The past weeks had been so fraught with fear and worry that to know everyone was safe and well meant that perhaps they could all rest easy once more.  
She was watching him undress through the curtains of the bed, watching the way his back and shoulder muscles rippled with each movement. When he turned back to her, she could see his chest, lightly covered with hair, nipples pronounced, a v of hair trailing from his navel to his shorts. She bit her lip and sighed softly. Just looking at him could make her writhe in desire.

He came to bed, leaning over to give her a sweet kiss before settling himself back among the pillows.

"Are you tired, my lord?" she asked, her fingers tracing over his chest.

"Quite. It has been a long few days," he answered and yawned.

She was a little taken aback. Normally he came to bed ravenous for her. In fact there had been more than one occasion now where they'd failed to make it to the bed at all. In their nearly three months of marriage they'd spent only three nights apart and two of them had been recent. She had learned more about his body and his likes and dislikes in those weeks than she ever thought possible. She knew now just where to touch him to make him shudder, knew where to kiss or lick to get a reaction. She was still unable to take him entirely in her mouth but with practice, she had gotten better and he didn't seem to mind.

"Oh," she said, withdrawing her hand and snuggling down under the comforter.

A second later he was lying over her, propped up on his arms, looking down at her face.

"I'm never too tired for you, Ellie," he said, brushing some hair off her face.

"But you said..."

"You asked if I was tired and I am. But I am not too tired to want to make love to my wife whom I have missed these last days."

He kissed her again, another breathtakingly sweet caress of his mouth over hers.

He swallowed her sighs, cupping her face in his hands, deepening the kiss and sucking on her lower lip.

"William...Will...I..."

He loved when she called him Will, as sure a sign as any that she trusted him completely and totally.

His kiss grew more urgent and she wrapped her arms around the broad expanse of his back, drawing him closer. She felt his hands leave her face, felt him touch her breast through the thin fabric of her gown, felt her nipple harden beneath his touch, felt herself arch into his palm. This was how it always seemed to go with them; a faint touch, a soft kiss, a whispered sigh could set them both aflame, like a piece of kindling set to dry hay, in moments consumed by the blaze. His hands continued their relentless torment, moving down her prone form, finding the hem of her gown and lifting it around her waist . He pulled one of the shoulders to the side, baring her shoulder and breast to him. He kissed the soft skin, licking at her nipple, nipping at it with his teeth and feeling the shudder that racked through her body as he did. He slid a finger inside of her wet body, stroking and teasing while she gasped and clutched at his back. Her nails scratched down his arms and he knew there would be marks there tomorrow but the brief moment of pain was nothing compared with the pleasure he was feeling. With a roar he impaled himself inside of her, not bothering to be slow or patient as he normally was. By now, her body had acclimated to him inside of her so she felt nothing but delight at the feel of him hard and full inside of her. He was groaning with each forceful surge and he reached down to take her ankle in his hand, drawing it up around his waist, changing the angle and she let out a cry of his name. It was a fast, frenetic coupling, a change from their normal more tender lovemaking and she found that she loved the pace he had set; it made her feel less wanton for craving him so desperately. She could spend hours thinking about the things they could do together; him lifting her skirts and pressing her against a wall, sneaking away for a midday romp in the gardens where he could sit upon a stone bench and she could be seated across his lap, her skirts strategically placed to cover their actions. She considered allowing him access to her chamber while she bathed, wondering if they could do this in the copper tub.

He licked the sweat from her collarbone, kissing her neck, biting softly, hoping whatever dresses she had with her had high enough collars to cover the love bite he had surely left on her.

"Oh, my love…William…Oh," she gasped as he pounded into her, sending the shock waves of pleasure straight through her core until she shattered around him. His climax followed a second later, the tightening of her walls was too much for him and he released himself with a powerful surge and a cry of her name.  
After several long moments of nothing but the sound of their heaving breaths he turned to her, kissing her temple and drawing her into his arms. He smoothed down her gown, replacing his own shorts and then kissing her gently.

"And now, my love, we sleep," he said against her ear.

The first faint light of the dawn was creeping through the windows of the room and Jane opened her eyes slowly. She rolled to her right, only to find the bed was empty and for a moment she thought she must have dreamed everything that had happened last night except these were certainly his chambers and it was certainly his scent upon the pillow next to her. The door opened and she yanked the covers over herself, attempting to hide herself beneath them, fearing that perhaps one of his grooms had come to awaken him.

A moment later the sheets lifted slightly and her brown eyes met his blue ones, sparkling with delight, a wicked grin on his face.

"What are you doing under there, my love?"

"Hiding."

"From whom?"

"I thought you were one of your grooms."

"And what if I had been? Do you think they would not have noticed when you failed to awaken and respond to their morning routine?"

"I don't know what I thought."

"Well, since it is only me and I have given my grooms the morning off, claiming to need more rest, will you come out of hiding?"

She nodded and wriggled until her head was out from under the covers.

"What has happened to the rest of you?" he asked, reaching his hands down to tickle her through the covers. She laughed at his touch, thrashing beneath him as he tormented her.

"Charles! Charles, stop," she pled through her laughter.

"Will you come out from under there?"

"But I…well…I'm naked, your grace," she said, blushing.

"I am aware of that, my love. You were quite naked when I left you only a few minutes ago and since I found you cowering under the covers, I imagined you did not have the time to retrieve your garments."

"But…"

"I won't love you any less in the morning, Jane, than I did last night," he said and he began to draw the covers down over her body.

She was even more luminous in the morning if it was possible, her hair waving behind her over the pillows, her hands clenched tightly by the sides of her face were fighting the urge to pull the covers back over herself and he took in every inch of her body.

"What is this?" he asked as his fingers stroked over a mark on the center of her arm.

"That is from where they bled me when I was a little girl and had been sick for several days," she said and he kissed it, causing her to shiver slightly.

"I think it only fair that if you are able to inventory each one of my scars, that I should be able to do the same," he said, kissing the mark once more and looking up at her, "I brought you some ale and some fruit, in case you were hungry or thirsty. Can I offer you something?"

"Some ale would be nice," she said and he turned to the table to pour her a goblet. Uncomfortable that he was serving her she moved to the edge of the bed and began to stand but her legs buckled beneath her. He was quick and able to catch her before she fell to the floor.

"Easy, love, you'll be a little unsteady now," he said.

She hadn't noticed it before but now could feel the tenderness between her legs, could feel that they were a bit wobbly and weak, whether from their exertions the night before or from something else, she was unable to say.

"Here," he said, offering her the ale as he crawled back beside her in bed.

She took several sips, handing it back to him and he placed it upon the floor.

"Come here," he said, pulling back the covers so she could nestle beside him.

They lay in silence for a while, his fingers combing through her hair. She had such beautiful hair, dark and wavy and it shone so spectacularly it was as though she radiated light.

"Are you quite well, sweetheart?" he asked softly against her ear, worried that perhaps she was hurt.

"I am more than well, your grace. I feel perfect and whole and loved and cherished. So, so cherished," she said, turning to face him.

"You are cherished, Jane," he assured her, kissing her gently.

Her hand reached up to touch his stubbled cheek, "I know and I am most grateful for it."

She let her hand rest upon him for a few moments, looking into his eyes, searching for any sign of regret or disappointment he might be feeling and when she saw only deep affection and love reflected there, she kissed him.

"When must you go to court?" she asked.

"Today, I think," he said, "The King expects me by the end of the week and I would like to utilize his feelings of good will towards me to my advantage."

"So you will ask him again about our betrothal?"

"And every time I see him until I have the answer I want though I feel he may be more inclined to give me what I desire this time."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Anything, my love."

"Why did you marry the Princess Margaret?"

He came up on his elbow to look at her.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know why you've chosen me."

"And telling you why I married Margaret will answer that?"

"No. I think only you can truly tell me but I do think that part of it has to do with her."

"Do you really want to know this?"

She nodded.

"I had known her almost my entire life. I was a playmate and companion of her brothers' and then was constantly at court when Henry was made King. She definitely believed herself to be above me because she had royal blood while I was just a commoner's son who'd had the good fortune of being a friend of Henry the VII. He sent me with her to Portugal to marry the King but before I left, he made me the Duke of Suffolk. A princess can't be given away by a mere commoner. And I think during that journey…No, I know during that journey that we both fell a little in love with each other. It was love underpinned and driven by lust and when we married, I thought that was enough. I thought loving and desiring someone were the same thing. I thought being impetuous and rushing into marriage would prove romantic and instead it led us both into a great deal of trouble with the King. I realized, too late, that I desired her but that I didn't love her so I sought relationships that would make me feel fleetingly loved and content. And I hurt her. I hurt her terribly with my affairs and my absence and my distance. When she died, I swore that if I ever married again, I would be sure it was for love first and everything else after. And then the King sent me here for some merrymaking and I met this extraordinarily lovely, bright, and kind young woman who would barely look at me…"

"I looked at you! I thought you were analyzing me for another, Charles!" she interrupted and he placed a finger to her mouth.

"Who would barely look at me but who made me feel something I didn't recognize, something more than desire or lust. The more time I spent with you, the more I realized I wanted to know everything about you and that I wanted to share everything I had with you. I realized that I was in love for the very first time in my life and that more than anything, I wanted to prove myself worthy of that love," he finished.

She smiled at him but he could see there was more she wanted to know so he encouraged her to ask.

"Did you have…There is rumors that…Did you have her murdered?"

"Where do you hear such things, Jane?" he asked in shock.

"News travels, your grace, especially news from court. I'm sure you would be indignant at some of the other things I have heard about you."

"Like what?"

"You answer me first," she said.

He sighed, "She died of consumption. I did not have her murdered though I thank you for being so trusting as to ask in the first place."

"I do trust you. Implicitly. But I've always wanted to ask."

"Now," he said, grabbing her ankle and yanking her down so she was lying under him, "What other scandalous things have you heard said about me?"

"That you've had over 100 lovers."

"Well, I'm well learned, my lady, but not that well learned," he replied.

"Charles!"

"I won't lie and tell you there have been no other women, Jane, but not even close to 100."

"I also heard that you bedded the Duke of Buckingham's daughter as a bet with the King."

Jesus, she really had heard everything. It was a wonder she'd agreed to allow him to court her at all.

"True, in part. I said I wanted to bed her, his majesty offered me a bet that I could not. Anything else?"

"I've also heard that you like to…to…" she stammered, unable to say it aloud.

"Whisper it to me," he said.

She leaned forward and whispered it into his ear and he swallowed hard.

"Also true," he said softly.

"I think I should like you to teach me that," she said in response and he laughed and kissed her.

"My darling Jane, you are truly a delight in every way."


	26. Chapter 26

26

Back once more in his London townhome, Charles could do nothing but think of her. He thought incessantly of their night together, of the way she felt under his hands, of her sighs and the way she whispered his name. He thought of how it had felt to touch her, to be allowed to do as he pleased, to make her his in every way. He wanted to do it again and again and he wanted to be able to do it without fear of discovery or worry about gossip starting. The ring he had commissioned many months ago had been delivered to London shortly after she'd left court in January. He'd held onto it since, safely locked in the back of one of the desk drawers in his study, buried under some papers. Now, he was about to leave to meet the King and he needed the reassurance of something that reminded him of her. Taking the ring from its pouch, he held it in his palm, imagining her standing there before him, imagining being able to give her everything. It was a gorgeous ring, a large ruby stone surrounded by a circle of smaller diamonds all set on a thin band and though he knew no piece of jewelry could remotely express how much he loved her, it at least gave an idea.

He was surprised to discover Mistress Boleyn was present in the room when the groom announced him, even more surprised to find her seated upon the King's lap, where they kissed unabashedly. He stood uncomfortably in the doorway until Henry pulled away, "Charles!" he exclaimed in delight at the sight of his friend.

"Majesty," he said, bowing.

"Welcome back to court. I see you are well recovered from the sweat and from your successful campaign in Calais."

"Yes, your majesty."

"Good, good. I am most pleased with the work you did there suppressing that band of rebels."

"Majesty," he acknowledged.

"I was also delighted to hear that you had escaped the wrath of the sweat. Did I not provide you with some of my own infusions for preventing its arrival?"

"You did, your majesty. I think, perhaps, they only work for the King," he replied with a laugh. Henry smiled, "What is it you wished to see me about, your grace?"

"I came to ask…" he began before the Lady Anne interrupted.

"Let me guess, your grace. You've come to ask for permission to marry the Marquis of Wiltshire's daughter, the Lady…what is her name again?"

"Jane," he said through gritted teeth.

"Ah yes, the Lady Jane. A bit virginal for your tastes isn't she, your grace?" she asked and Charles' jaw twitched in anger.

Who was this woman? Why did the King allow her to speak to him in such a manner?

"Now, now, my love, play nice," Henry chided Anne who seemed to deflate a bit at his reprimand.

"Majesty, I would like to ask once more for your permission to marry the Lady Jane Stafford," Charles said finally, unable to stand the presence of this woman for another moment.

Henry paused for a moment, tracing a line over Anne's pert little nose down to her mouth, causing Charles to think that he had not been listening at all.

"Yes, your grace," he said finally and Charles did not fail to notice the look that crossed the face of Anne Boleyn.

"Yes?"

"Yes, you have my permission to marry the Lady Jane Stafford."

"Thank you, your majesty. Thank you," he said, bowing slightly and beginning to back from the room.

"And Charles?" he called after him.

"Majesty?"

"Try and treat her a fair bit better than you did my sister."

It was a final parting blow after he gave him what he had asked for and normally Charles would have been livid with the reminder but in that moment all he cared about was that he had his permission.

 _Dearest Jane-  
Please come to London as soon as you are able. I have seen the King and he wishes to speak with you again before rendering his verdict. Hasten to me quickly, my love.  
Charles_

As soon as the letter arrived, she was packing her things. She didn't know how long she would be, was not even sure what she would need or what she could use so her maids took over, finishing in a remarkably short period of time. Lucy and Thomas would accompany her to act as chaperones and so they might be presented to the court. As always, the ride to London seemed interminable and despite her sibling's palpable excitement, all she could feel was worry and anxiety over this summons. He wasn't at home when they arrived and so the staff saw to their every need. He returned before dinner and kissed Jane briefly, away from prying eyes. As they ate he suggested a list of activities for Thomas and Lucy to take part in while they visited. He'd managed to gain them admittance to the royal menagerie, housed in the Tower of London, he would take Thomas to play tennis, there would be a picnic in his gardens, and of course, they would be able to attend several dinners and night of entertainment at the palace itself. Lucy was practically apoplectic with excitement and Thomas, try though he may to suppress it, was clearly enthusiastic as well. As they all prepared to retire to bed, Charles stopped her for a moment at the stairs, "Will you come to me tonight?" he asked softly and she nodded. She had hoped he would ask; the last days without him had been challenging because now that she had tasted of the forbidden fruit, it was all she could think about having.

The door to his room was slightly ajar when she arrived an hour later, the grooms seemingly vanished. She tapped lightly and waited a few moments and when there was no answer, pushed her way inside. Shutting the door behind her, she whispered his name, wondering where it was he could be. His entry chamber was empty, as was his bed chamber and it was only after she looked around that she noticed the light emanating from the small door that she presumed led from his chambers to the chambers that adjoined his. She opened the door further, stepping inside, into a room that was dimly lit with hundreds of candles that flickered over the walls and ceilings. When she stepped closer, she could see that something which resembled a tent had been erected with sheets and sheer panels in the center of the room.

"Charles?" she questioned.

"In here," he called back and she pushed open the mock doorway of the tent. The inside had been decorated with bowers of flowers and more candles. There was a large couch and blankets and pillows scattered everywhere. He was down on his knees in his boots, breeches, and shirt in the middle of it all.

"What is all of this?" she asked in wonder.

"It's for you, my love."

"But why? I don't understand…I thought…"

"Jane, he has given his permission."

"What?"

"He has consented to our marriage so I am kneeling here before you asking you finally if you will marry me?"

The look of absolute shock on her face was worth all of the time he had spent planning the entire elaborate charade. The King had never asked to see her and though he felt badly that it would bring her more anxiety, he knew it was the only way of getting her to agree to come to London without arousing suspicion.

He had, of course, written to the Marquess of his plans, explaining the situation and informing him that he intended to ask Jane to marry him. The Marquess had been delighted to hear the good news but since he was unable to travel, he asked if he could send Lucy and Thomas in his stead.

"Doesn't the King want to talk to me?" she asked, not even answering his question.

"No, sweetheart, it was all just a way of getting you to come here," he said with a smile.

'Oh, Charles, oh, my love," she said, coming to kneel before him, "Is this real?"

"As real as you or I," he responded and she placed her hands upon his shoulders to assure herself that he was there and not just a figment of her imagination.

"We can finally be together?"

"Assuming you say yes and let me give you this ring," he said with a grin.

"Yes, of course. Yes, Charles. I most want to marry you," she said.

Withdrawing the ring from its pouch, she gasped at the sight of it.

"It's exquisite, Charles," she breathed as he put it on her finger.

"Far less exquisite than the extraordinary jewel before me," he returned, kissing her hands as the ring moved into place.

She moved so that they were palm to palm and forehead to forehead, neither speaking, the room silent except for the sounds of their breathing. It was she who moved first, she who initiated the kiss that whispered over his lips, a soft press of her skin against his.

"Jane," he murmured, drawing her closer and kissing her more deeply.

"Please tell me I can stay," she said softly against his shoulder where she had pushed his shirt aside and was now kissing the same small scar from the other night.

"As though I'd be able to ask you to leave now," he said against her hair while she reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. He pulled her flush against him, the heat radiating from his body as she stroked her fingers over his chest.

"You have another scar here, my love," she said, fingers running over a small ridge of skin that ran just above his stomach.

"That is from jousting with his majesty," he said, exhaling a shaky breath as she leaned down to kiss it.

"Are all your scars from sword fighting and jousting?" she asked.

"They aren't from writing poetry and playing the lute, my love," he teased.

Her hands wandered lower to the ties of his breeches, stopping to look up at him.

"May I…may I look at it?" she asked.

He released the breath he had been holding as her hands had wandered down his stomach. Nodding at her, she undid the laces of his pants, sliding them down his legs. She could make out the outline of it through his shorts and her fingers reached out to stroke over it softly. He sighed and groaned at the feel of that small touch alone. She pulled back as though burned.

"Are you well, your grace?"

"Quite, Jane."

Seeing that he was not hurt, she began to undo his shorts, pulling those down and allowing his growing erection to spring from its coverings. She licked her lips and he imagined her soft, pink tongue running over his cock and he nearly climaxed then.

"Lay down," she said and he fell back among the pillows, kicking off his pants as he went.

She came to kneel between his legs, sitting back on her heels and he felt her gaze roam over his naked body, taking in every muscle and contour and mark.

With her hands braced on his thighs, a touch alone that was making him harder by the second, she peered down at his erection, a look of wonder upon her face.

"It's really not that attractive, is it? Though it seems to be more designed for pleasure than to be beautiful."

"And does it pleasure you, sweetheart?"

"A great deal, my lord," she answered with a blush.

She touched it then, her fingers wrapping around the hardened shaft and he groaned.

She was going to kill him with these touches. She had no idea what she was doing, no idea that it felt as good as it did, no idea that he could explode at any moment.

"Does this bring you pleasure, your grace?"

"A tremendous amount, dearest. More than you can possibly imagine."

"I thought it could only work inside of me," she said shyly.

"It can only work to get you with child if it's inside of you, sweetheart but it can still get hard and bring me a great deal of pleasure just by you touching it."

"So it feels good when I do this?" she asked, her hand rising and lowering on him as her fingernail scraped the underside of his head.

"Jesus, Jane," he said, rolling her so she was on her back beneath him.

"Why did you make me stop?" she asked.

"Because I want, nay, I need to be buried inside of you right now," he said, his mouth kissing over her neck and throat.

She whimpered at this, murmuring softly as his hands roamed to the hem of her gown and began to lift it over her body, tossing it aside, leaving her totally naked beneath him.

His large hands caressed her breasts, stroking and teasing at the nipples that were already erect in the chill of the night air. Her hands threaded through his hair, drawing him closer, allowing her to kiss the indentation in his chin and then tilt his head to the side so she could lick and bite at the smooth skin of his neck. He growled at her teeth scraping across his skin and when she bit at the space between his neck and shoulder, he slid a finger inside of her tight, wet heat, barely pausing to ease it inside of her. She was wet and it slid in and her head fell back upon the pillows, unable to focus on anything other than what he was doing to her. He added a second finger, scissoring them inside of her, searching, probing until his thumb flicked over a spot on the underside of her clit and she practically screamed his name, grasping his shoulders for purchase.

"There's your sweet spot, sweetheart," he said, stroking in exactly the same place and causing the same reaction, "I shall endeavor to remember that each time we do this," he finished, adding a third stroke that left her writhing.

Her hips were thrusting up against him in desperation and he wanted to give her what she so obviously craved but he wanted to be sure that she was prepared. It was only the second time they had done this and he didn't know if she would be any more prepared this time than last. His fingers continued their relentless torment and it was only when she gave a strangled gasp that he realized she could take no more. Positioning himself above her, he pushed inside, a small bit at a time.

"Please, Charles, please," she begged.

He surged inside of her and it was bliss. Her tight walls squeezed him, her hands wrapped around his back, drawing him closer, holding him to her as though he was a most precious and beloved gift. His thrusts began slowly and then turned frantic as she moaned his name again and again. He brought his mouth to her breast, circling the nipple with his tongue and then biting at the erect point. Her walls clenched around his cock and she climaxed with a whimpering gasp of his name which sent him deep into the throes of his own ecstasy.

Later, when their breathing had slowed and he'd covered them with the blankets from the floor, he held her close and whispered loving words into her ear and as she fell asleep against his chest, she felt, for the first time in her life, what it was to be truly cherished and adored.


	27. Chapter 27

After watching Lucy try on three different gowns, Jane finally stepped in and selected one for her.

"The cream is lovely, Lucy. It will look perfect with your dark hair and with the pearl necklace," she said.

"Are you sure, Jane? I thought you were to wear your cream gown this evening?"

"I'll wear the red instead," she said with a smile.

"May I see your ring again, sister?" Lucy asked shyly and Jane nodded, extending her hand towards her sister who took it to study the ring.

"The Duke is quite wealthy, is he not?"

"Lucy!"

"Well he must be. He has this house and the one at Henham and all those lands and he can give you beautiful rings and dresses."

"Those things aren't important, Lucy. They're not what matters at the end of the day."

"Jane, you're such a hopeless romantic. Not all of us get to marry for love. And if I can't marry for love than at least I can marry for money and have beautiful things."

"You don't love Richard?"

Lucy shrugged, "He's nice enough but he doesn't look at me the way the Duke looks at you and I am sure he never will. He's kind to me and has a title and money, I think that's enough."

Jane never failed to be surprised by her younger sister who had always been so pragmatic and realistic even as a child. It pained her to think of Lucy married off to a man who was closer to Charles age than Lucy's, a man who was kind but with whom there was no real passion or connection. She considered herself lucky to have Charles whose devotion was on display virtually everywhere they went. Since their official engagement, he had yet to leave her side. He'd taken them all on a boat ride along the Thames and they'd been permitted entrance to the Lion Tower to see the royal menagerie, animals of every kind the likes of which they had never before seen, caged within. Flowers magically appeared at her chamber door every afternoon and he had seen to it that her favorite foods were prepared and served each evening. At night, after Lucy and Thomas had retired, he would sneak into her rooms, using a secret passage and they would talk or play cards. Jane had already taken a small fortune from him which he insisted she keep, despite her protests. They had not engaged in any further amorous activities during these past two nights because Charles was reticent to force himself on her while she recovered from that first night even though she adamantly stated that she was fine. Instead he held her close each night, his arms wrapped around her securely, his soft kisses and whispered words of love lingering on her lips and in her ears.

Even though she was happier than she had ever been, the idea of appearing at court once more terrified her. On the carriage ride to the palace, Charles engaged in polite conversation with Thomas and Lucy, who chattered away at a rapid pace. He held her hand tightly within his own, providing the steady assurance and comfort only he could. Fortunately neither the King nor the Lady Anne were present when they were announced and Jane breathed a small sigh of relief at the empty chairs upon the dais. She was sitting with Lucy and Thomas when Sir Thomas Boleyn and the Duke of Norfolk were announced by the crier and she could feel the change in Charles' demeanor.

"I shall see you soon," he said, leaning down close to her ear.

"Must you?" she asked and he gave her a brief look and she nodded.

He couldn't have been gone more than a few minutes when the King and the Lady Anne were announced. Everyone rose from where they sat or bowed from where they stood and Jane felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of the Queen, cast aside and forgotten in favor of a younger, supposedly more fertile, woman. Once they had been seated, everyone else continued on as they had been and Jane returned to her seat.

"She's beautiful, isn't she, Jane?" Thomas asked.

Jane nodded, unwilling to speak in fear of saying anything that could be repeated or held against her or Charles.

"Look, sister, she is coming this way," Lucy whispered.

And it was true. Headed in their direction, her raven hair curling softly with a crown of pearls and emeralds adorning her head, her green dress shimmering in the candlelight, each step brought her closer and closer.

"Lady Jane, welcome back to his majesty's court," she said haughtily.

"Lady Anne," she said, nodding her head to her.

"Walk with me, Lady Jane," she said, beginning towards the archway that led from the Hall into the entry chamber.

Shooting a pleading look at her brother and sister who were both too young and far too amazed at the presence of this woman whom they had only heard talk of now before them, they could not do anything but stare.

The two women walked side by side. To anyone who did not know them, they might have been sisters, or cousins with their dark hair and their similar stature and build. It seemed that every eye in the room was upon them and Jane silently prayed that Charles, wherever he was, could see this and come and rescue her.

"What did you wish to speak with me about, Lady Anne?" Jane asked quietly.

"I wished to show you something," she replied, leading her up a set of stairs to a small balcony that overlooked the Hall.

Jane was now completely baffled. What could this woman possibly have to show her? They hardly knew each other and to say that their last meeting had been fraught with tension would have been an understatement.

She stopped abruptly, looking out over the crowd below.

"There," she said suddenly, her finger pointing to someone in the crowd, "Do you see that woman over there?"

Jane nodded, looking at the blonde woman she was pointing to.

"And over there," she said, indicating a brunette in an ill- fitting gown that left little to the imagination.

"Yes, Lady Anne, but why…"

"And those two women next to the dais. Do you see them?"

Jane nodded again.

"They are all his conquests," she said, her voice like the lash of a whip.

"Excuse me, Lady Anne?"

"The Duke of Suffolk. He has bedded each of those women and rumor has it he bedded those two at the same time," she said.

"Why are you telling me this?

"To open your eyes to what life at court is really like. You may think your life will be quiet and companionable just as it is when you are in the country, but here, there will always be the ghosts of his past lurking about every corner. Is that a life you are willing to lead?"

"I think, Lady Anne, that I shall take a page from your book when it comes to living among the ghosts of the past. Although in your case, I do believe they are not quite in the past, are they?" Jane asked archly, surprising even herself.

Anne's face flushed scarlet and Jane nodded quickly before striding from the balcony and back down the stairs. Once out of the presence of that wretched whore, she gasped for air. How dare she remind her of Charles' past? She felt the tears pricking her eyes and a gaggle of giggling women walked by. She smiled politely and then hurried herself into a nearby alcove. It was dark and hidden away and once there she let her tears flow, silent sobs escaping her throat.

When Charles returned both Lucy and Thomas had begun to eat but Jane was nowhere to be found.

"Where has your sister gone?" he asked.

"The Lady Anne came and asked her to walk with her," Thomas replied.

Charles felt a pang of fear at this news. Nothing good could have come of that.

"Where did they go?"

"They went that way, your grace and then disappeared. We haven't seen Jane since though the Lady Anne has returned," he said, nodding towards the table where she sat laughing with the King.

His search commenced among the other tables and guests though there was no one here that she would know aside from her sibling so it was unlikely he would find her there. His eyes scanned the balconies but saw only a few men engaged in conversation. In the entryway, the Spanish Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys was washing his hands.

"Your grace," he greeted Charles, bowing.

"Chapuys," Charles returned, looking over the other man's shoulders for places she might be hiding.

"Did you happen to lose a young lady?"

"Yes," he sighed in relief, "Have you seen her?"

"I believe she is in the small alcove in the next room. She seemed quite distressed," he said and Charles was half in the other room before he could finish.

He found her exactly where Chapuys had said she was, in the darkened alcove, leaning against a wall. It was obvious she had been crying and he cursed that woman under his breath.

"My love, what is it?" he asked softly, reaching for her hand but she pulled away from him. He was surprised.

"How many women, Charles?" she asked in a tone that dripped with venom.

"How many women, what?"

"In that room this evening; how many of those women have you made love to?" she asked, her eyes meeting his, ablaze with anger.

"Jane, whatever has gotten into you?"

"That's where she took me, your grace. To show me all of your paramours. To remind me that anytime I was here at court, I would be forever surrounded by the reminders of your previous affairs," she said mirthlessly.

Charles shut his eyes at this news. Of course she had. He should have never left her alone while the serpent circled about.

"Jane, why do you wish to know this?"

"So the next time she corners me and insists on pointing out the ladies you loved before me, I am adequately prepared. How many Charles?"

"Does it really matter, my love? I am here with you, we are engaged to be married. I do not desire anyone else. I love you."

"A number if you please, your grace."

"Ten, maybe twelve, most of whom are married now anyway," he added hastily, as though that might reassure her.

"Thank you, your grace," she replied, brushing past him.

"Jane!" he called after her but she had already re-entered the Hall.

If it hadn't meant losing his own head, he would have throttled the life straight from the Boleyn whore that very moment.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

She would barely look at him or speak with him for the remainder of the evening. He'd tried to reach for her hand under the table but she'd pretended to reach for her goblet, making it impossible to do so. He felt the eyes of Mistress Boleyn upon them all evening as she tried to ascertain whether or not her earlier actions had achieved their desired purpose. Jane realized it as well and though she was furious with embarrassment, when she did look at him she would smile and she made every effort to seem as if she was enjoying every moment of the wretched evening. When the music began, she allowed Charles to lead her out for a dance, smiling the entire time though at his every attempt to speak to her she would shush him through gritted teeth. She danced merrily with her brother and smiled and conversed politely with several people whom Charles had introduced her to. She saw the King beckon Charles over and a moment later, he was back at her side.  
"He wishes to speak with you, my lady," he said softly.

"Why? To remind me further that you are incapable of fidelity and point out your many conquests to me?" she whispered furiously though her smile never wavered.

"Jane, please. Do this one thing and then we may return home," he promised.

She nodded and followed him to the dais, her eyes never leaving the blue ones of Anne Boleyn who seemed to be searching for any sign of weakness she could find in Jane's face. Wanting to give her nothing to attack, she allowed her fingers to graze softly over the back of Charles' hand and was pleased that he took the hint and grasped her hand in his own.

"Ah, Lady Jane, welcome back to my court," the King greeted most pleasantly.

"Majesty," she said with a curtsey, "Thank you for welcoming me back."

"I hear you are to be congratulated on your betrothal to the Duke of Suffolk," he said.

"Yes, majesty. It only just happened the other night," she replied.

"A happy marriage is truly something to be desired, is it not, sweetheart?" he asked, turning to Anne.

"Very much so, my lord," she agreed quickly, placing a hand upon his arm.

Something strange and unidentifiable crackled through the air between them, something that made Jane a little uneasy. It was as though all of the passion and lust they effused in public was tainted in some way by Henry's control and her desire to please him at all costs.

"To the Duke of Suffolk and the Lady Jane Stafford, long may you live and love," Henry said, raising his goblet in mock salute.

Bowing and curtseying once more, Charles and Jane made their way back to the table where Lucy was sitting, watching glumly as Thomas danced with a young lady.

While Charles went to remind him that they were leaving, Lucy looked at Jane.

"Why does he get to have all the fun?" she asked.

"Because he's a man and in this world, men get to have all the fun without fear of the repercussions, Lucy. You would do well to remember that," Jane remarked sharply.

Surprised by her sister's tone and the anger with which her words were spoken, Lucy held her tongue and said no more.

The carriage ride back to the townhouse was much more subdued than the one to court had been. Lucy was festering over the fact that she had not been asked to dance, Thomas was mooning over the young lady with whom he had danced, Charles was staring at Jane who was studiously avoiding his gaze by looking out the carriage window. They retired to their respective chambers almost immediately though Jane knew that Charles would check to see if any letters had been delivered in his absence before retiring for the night. As her maids undressed her, she let her mind wander over the evening, Anne's words and those of the King replaying over and over again. "He's incapable of fidelity. You will always be haunted by the ghosts of the past." Dismissing her maids once her shift and hair were settled, she went to the door that he used to sneak from his rooms to hers. She paused for a minute, hand on the latch and with a final clinking noise, locked it.

He made his way through the back halls quickly stopping on the other side of the door, pausing for a moment to consider what he might say to not only allay her fears but to also reassure her of his love and fidelity. He reached for the handle, turning it carefully and meeting with resistance. Assuming that perhaps he had not turned with enough force or that it had caught upon something, he tried again with no success. She had locked him out. She had locked him out of a room in his own house. He was furious; with Anne Boleyn, with the King, with himself, and with her for thinking she could prevent him from entering her chambers whenever he so desired. She belonged to him and come hell or high water, he would get into that room and they would speak about what had happened tonight. He had a set of keys to every room in the house that he kept in his study, the other set kept with the House Master, Mr. Tithington. Creeping back over his previous path, he returned to his rooms, and crept down to the study. He fumbled briefly through a drawer in his desk, hand alighting upon the keys after a few moments in the dark. Holding them tightly to prevent them from clanging together loudly, he retraced his steps all the way back to her door.

She had lain in bed, heard him turn the handle once and then again. She could practically hear his exasperation through the door. After a moment, she'd heard his boots turn on the stone floor and begin to walk away. She placed her pillow over her head, muffling her angry shouts. She'd only begun to doze off when she heard boots striding through the small room that led from the door to her room. A second later, the pillow was yanked from her head and she blinked her eyes, looking up at him, his eyes practically midnight blue, the line of his jaw firmly set.

"But how…"she began before he held the set of keys up in his hand.

"This is my home, Jane. I have access to every room in it, even when doors are locked," he said angrily.

"So then you do not value the privacy of others?"

"You are my wife, Jane. You have no privacy where I am concerned," he practically shouted at her.

"I am not yet your wife, your grace and until such a time, you owe me the small courtesy of allowing me my privacy."

"So whenever you are angry with me you intend to run away, is that how it is to be?" he asked.

"No. I only intend to run away from you before we are married. Once it's done, I will be expected to submit to you in every way, whether I like it or not," she said, chin tilted up defiantly.

He took her chin firmly in his hand and for a split second, she thought he might walk away but instead he kissed her. Resisting was futile because his thumbs held her firmly in place as his mouth moved over hers. She was angry and insulted and more than a little embarrassed but when he kissed her, she could feel her resolve crumbling. But no, he deserved a taste of her wrath, he deserved to be reminded of the hurt he'd caused her by bringing her here and allowing his past to be shoved under her nose. When his hand released her face, she pulled away, moving herself across the bed away from his reach. He moved to kneel upon it and she yanked the covers back up over her.

"Don't you come any closer, Charles Brandon," she whispered.

He grinned. She never called him Brandon and hearing her say it now, seeing how angry she was only made him love her all the more.

"I…will come…as close as I please," he said, crawling towards her. He stopped only a few inches from her face, his body above hers, "And now you will talk to me," he said.

"I have nothing to say," she said, turning her head so she didn't have to look at him.

"Jane, I know you are upset."

"I am not upset, your grace. I am perfectly fine. Why ever should I be upset? Certainly it's not because I had your former conquests thrust into my face this evening?"

"Jane, I swear to you, I had no idea she was going to do that," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"Of course not. I would imagine if you had an idea about it, you would have prevented her from doing so, if only to save your own reputation."

"Jane…"

"It's fine, Charles. You've slept with half the women at court. As soon as our marriage vows are exchanged, I shall become the laughingstock of the English court if I am not already. Those women will look at me with pity and scorn, knowing that I am as easily disposable to you as they were."

"Jane, you are not easily disposable, my love," he said.

"Then why do I feel as though I am?" she asked softly, looking away from him once more.

He couldn't bear to see the tears in her eyes, couldn't stand that she was in such pain over his foolish, youthful indiscretions. He sat back upon his heels, carefully pulling the covers away from her body before drawing her into his arms. She wept against his shoulder as he held her close, stroking her hair and whispering words of reassurance against her ear.

"You, my love, are not easily disposed of. I tried so hard to not allow myself to fall in love with you, Jane. I watched you from a distance, I held myself back because I knew if I let you fall in love with me that there would come a day such as this one, when you realized that I am deeply flawed and that I have made some terrible choices and decisions and that knowledge would hurt you."

"Charles, I don't think…"

"Let me finish. I didn't purposely keep my past affairs a secret, you were obviously aware of my less than stellar reputation, you obviously knew that my marriage to Mary was unhappy and that I hurt her with my indiscretions. But I vowed to myself that if I were to ever marry again, I would not only do so for love, but also do so with the intent of never hurting my wife the way I had hurt Mary."

She looked up at him, placing a hand to his face. It was a touch of forgiveness and of love and he felt every ounce of it pouring from her fingers into him.

"I know you love me. I know that you've had an indiscriminate past and that you've made some less than gallant choices. I also know that you regret those choices, that you regret the way you hurt Mary, and that you are determined to be a better man. I am unhappy about being an object of scorn and derision to that…woman…and I fear to his Majesty as well."

"You are not an object of derision to Henry," he assured.

"Oh but I am, my love. He thinks you incapable of change, incapable of loyalty and devotion to anyone other than him and he is most jealous of me and the hold he thinks I have over you."

"But how…"

"He is your oldest and dearest friend, sweetheart. He also happens to be the King of England, a young man who has never been told no or denied, surely you can see that even now? This court, these cardinals hemming and hawing over his great matter, it's all so he can do as he pleases. He is like a small child, only without the discipline of his parents to keep him in check. And he expects your loyalty, expects your utter and complete devotion because he has given you everything. But he sees now that your love for me, your willingness to wait and not give in when he said no, are all threats to the loyalty he both expects and craves. He may love you, Charles but his love has conditions, has a power dynamic that ours does not. He looks at me and sees the one person who will divide your time and your loyalties. You told me once that I wouldn't only be marrying Charles Brandon, I'd also be marrying the Duke of Suffolk and that there were times when they would not be the same. I can accept that. I much prefer Charles Brandon to the Duke. He cannot. He wants and needs both and he is worried that I will be the only one who possesses the loyalty and love of Charles Brandon."

"Sweetheart," he said, though he had no idea what to say. Everything she said was true. Henry wanted him to be faithful and devoted to him and only him. He could not bear to see Charles happy if he was not, could not bear to know that Charles could marry who he pleased while he was forced to wait for the Pope to rule on his great matter. Beyond that, he was jealous that Jane and Jane alone, got to see the Charles Brandon he knew and remembered from his youth and not simply the Duke of Suffolk.

"I am sorry I locked you out, your grace," she said.

"And I am sorry that I left you alone to deal with that horrid woman."

She nodded.

"Will you be all right with this?" he asked.

"I have no choice but to be. I'll be expected at court with you and I can't allow women who I do not know and do not care about to control what I do and where I go."

"And I am forgiven?"

"You have no need to repent to me, my love," she said, kissing him gently.

He sighed deeply, half in relief, half in sadness. They had already been through so much, to know that he was causing her even another second of pain was like pouring salt into a wound.

"Come to bed, Charles," she said, drawing back the covers and reaching out her hand to him.

He came to lay beside her, drawing her into his arms and kissing her temple.

"All will be well, Charles," she said, placing her hand over his.

And he knew that no matter what faced them in the future, all would be well.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

After ten days at court, he escorted her, Lucy, and Thomas back to Grentham. He would stay there for a few days and then he and Jane would travel to see William and Eleanor for a few days before he'd make his way back to Henham Park. They were hoping for an October wedding but there were a few matters that Charles and her father needed to discuss before any planning could happen. It also only gave Jane about eight weeks to get her life in order and to prepare for one of the momentous days of her life.

While in London they had talked through everything that had happened the first night she had been back at court and though she would never be entirely comfortable there under the watchful eye of the King or his paramour, she felt reassured that there was no one else in his life and no one else for whom he felt as strongly as he did her. They dined at court two additional times after that evening and she did her best to avoid any prolonged conversation with either his majesty or the Lady Anne and Charles went out of his way to see to it that she was kept entertained and protected. Wolsey, once so high in the King's favor, was falling more and more, aided by the information that Thomas Boleyn, the Duke of Norfolk, and Charles all provided him with. Henry was still reeling from the findings of the legatine court which had insisted that Cardinal Campeggio was unable to rule on the great matter alone. There seemed to be a sudden upsurge in rhetoric against the Pope and the Catholic church and its cult of images, rhetoric repeated frequently by Anne and her followers whenever they had a chance. It was clear that a line had been drawn; follow the teachings of the Church and you were firmly in the camp of Queen Katharine, demonstrating a willingness to speak out against the Church meant you believed that the King should be allowed to put aside his first wife and take another. Rumors abounded that the Lady Anne was a witch, seducing the King with her magical powers. She'd even heard someone suggest that the Lady Anne had an additional finger or a "devil's teat." Further, people whispered in hush tones that she was providing the King with reading material written by Tyndale which suggested that Kings alone could and should rule in matters both temporal and spiritual. She could sense how tense Charles was, could sense his reluctance to continue to the aide of Norfolk and Boleyn but he saw no other way to bring down Wolsey.

The days at Grentham were spent companionably with Charles and her father spending most of the day holed up in his study discussing matters of the dowry and whatever else needed to be taken care of. Jane met with her seamstress to commission the work on her wedding dress with material she had acquired while in London. She discussed flowers and menus for the luncheon and dinner that would follow the ceremony. They had discussed the possibility of being married in London at his majesty's invitation but Jane had declined and insisted that she wished to be married in her family's chapel at Grentham. Charles, knowing it was more from a desire to be far removed from the prying eyes of the court, acquiesced. They would have to return to London after the wedding but he would make every effort to give her as much time as he could with her family, particularly Henry, before taking her.

She'd already had a relatively difficult conversation with her youngest brother, explaining that she would soon marry the Duke and when that happened, that she would go to live with him. Henry, who'd never spent more than a few days parted from his sister, wondered aloud how long it would be before they would come back to Grentham and Jane had to gently explain that she would come to visit Grentham when she could but that she would primarily be living with Charles and would likely only see him a small number of times during the year.

"But who will I walk with in the afternoons?" he asked softly after a few minutes of thinking over the things she had just said.

"Perhaps Lucy or Anne will be able to take you and Catallus for your walks or Master Swyndale will be here. I'm sure even Thomas could take you if you asked."

"But I do not want them. I want you!" he protested.

Charles, sensing that Jane did not know what to say to this, stepped in, coming to sit on a small foot stool before the place where Henry stood.

"Now, Master Henry, I know it is very hard to be apart from someone you love very much but Jane will visit when she can and I think you will be able to come and visit us at Henham Park as well. Perhaps we can arrange a visit when the river isn't frozen and I can take you fishing. What say you to that?"

Henry nodded though it was with far less enthusiasm than normal and even Charles could tell that the young boy felt angry with him for taking his sister away.

Turning to Jane, he eyed her sadly, "Everyone leaves me," he said before giving a small bow to them and leaving the room.

Charles had held her close as she wept. Leaving the only home she had ever known would be hard enough, leaving Henry would be absolutely devastating.

By the time they left for William and Eleanor's, Henry had come around a bit with her but still refused to look at or speak to Charles, a fact which bothered Jane to no end.

"He will come around, my love, it will just take some time for him to get used to the idea," he had soothed as he helped her onto her horse.

They'd ridden on to Eleanor and William's, delighted to be reunited with her brother and dearest friend Jane was able to put aside some of the sadness she felt about Henry. She was even more thrilled to learn that she would soon be an aunt to what would undoubtedly be a beautiful baby; a perfect combination of William and Eleanor. While William and Charles went hunting and fishing, they spent their afternoons walking in the gardens or holed up in the house talking about the impending arrival and making preparations for the nursery. Neither talked about the delivery, the worry about what could or might happen, the fear of not surviving to see one's child grow. Eleanor believed the baby would arrive sometime in the early spring and Jane promised to be in attendance at the delivery if she was able. Eleanor was nervous about the lying in, worried about being shut away from the world, afraid that William would forget about her during those long weeks. Jane, ever reassuring, insisted that there was no way William would forget her. In fact, if his present behavior was any indication, there was no way that he wouldn't be even more attentive than he was now. They had laughed over his nearly outrageous handling of her, insisting she could not serve herself from a platter at breakfast or dinner, worrying that she might be too cold or too hot, panicking when he saw her reach for something that required her to stand on a stool, reminding her constantly that she needed to rest and take things easy. Jane had commented about it to Charles one evening as they were playing cards and he had looked up from his hand, "I imagine that I will be much the same way when you are pregnant," he commented, causing Jane to blush. He had made these kinds of comments several times now, always hinting at the future children they might have, making no secret of his desire to have a large family. He reached for her free hand, squeezing it across the table and smiling at her. Those smiles might well be the reason she had a houseful of children clamoring around.

After a few enjoyable days together, they departed for Henham where Jane would meet with the staff who would work on her rooms and where she could select a staff to serve her when she returned there in a few weeks as the lady of the house. It was a hot day, hotter than it had been all summer and they had to pause frequently to water the horses and to stop and rest for themselves. They were about 2/3 of the way through the journey when a sudden and unexpected storm barreled down upon them bringing with it torrents of rain, thunder and lightning. There was a small, abandoned chapel with some stables and out buildings nearby where they sought refuge to wait out the worst of the storm. The grooms who had accompanied them took shelter in the stables with the horses while they waited for clearer skies within the sanctuary of the abbey. The stale air was chillier than outside, probably made so by the fact that their clothes were absolutely drenched. She removed her hat and jacket, stripping down to her shift and she did not fail to notice the look that crossed her fiance's eyes.

"Here," he said after a moment, "Take this." He handed her a blanket which was slightly damp but at least offered some warmth.

"I'm going to check in on the horses but then will come back and stay with you. Will you be all right for a few moments on your own?" he asked.

She nodded.

He returned a little while later with a second blanket, along with some bread, apples and wine. Laying the blanket upon the floor, he beckoned her to sit and she came to rest between his legs, letting her back rest against his chest, letting his warmth soak through her body.

"How are the horses?" she asked after a few minutes of chewing.

"They are well, a little spooked from the storm but the grooms have calmed them and given them water and some oats and apples and they seem to be resting more easily."

"And you, my love? How are you?" she asked.

"I am fine, sweetheart. Pleased that you are safe and well, relieved that we had a place to shelter from the storm, happy to be returning to Henham."

"You like it at Henham, don't you?"

"Very much, Jane. It's a much simpler life, a more relaxed pace, a place where I can enjoy the things I like; hunting, fishing, shooting; all without worry about gossip and politics. And it reminds me of you."

"Of me?" she asked in surprise.

"Yes, of you."

"But why?"

"Because, my love, when you came for Christmas last year bringing with you all the joy and spirit of the season, it was the first time that it felt like a home and not just a large, grand house."

She kissed his hand at this. "Wherever you are is home to me, dearest."

He smiled at her and they continued to eat their small snack while chatting about the remaining distance and plans for the days ahead. An hour must have passed and Jane, who had been reclining upon the blanket in an attempt to rest for a bit, sat up.

"Listen," she said.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's stopped raining," she said, standing and walking to the door of the chapel. Pushing it open she peeked outside and saw that the rain had ceased as quickly as it had begun. The sun was back and it had grown warm and muggy once more.

"Jane," he called after her but she was already out the door.

By the time he reached the doors, she had seemingly vanished and he stepped out into the light, momentarily blinded by the sunlight. A split second later he felt something wet and warm sliding down his face and he opened his eyes to see Jane in the courtyard, laughing and holding a handful of mud.

"You little…" he began, reaching down for his own handful of mud and tossing it back at her, hitting her in the backside as she turned from him.

She squealed in protest, launching another pile of mud at him but he ducked and she missed him, hitting the ground behind him instead.

"Oh, that's it," he said and began to chase her through the courtyard, down the pathway they had arrived on. She would glance over her shoulder every so often and he tossed another pile of mud at her, catching her in the back of her legs and he could hear her laughter ringing out as he chased her through a small set of bushes. A moment later they were beside a small pond and Charles grinned when he realized she had nowhere to go and escape. He came towards her and she backed up slightly, her feet now at the edge of the water.

"Lacking a little bravery now, aren't we sweetheart?" he asked with a smirk.

"You wouldn't dare," she said.

"You started this fight, my love. Perhaps you should have thought out your plan a bit more thoroughly," he teased, stepping closer once more.

She shrieked as she stepped back into the water.

"Charles, it's freezing. I will get ill," she pled though she knew there was little chance of that happening.

He took three final steps, closing the gap between them and grabbing her by the waist, tossing her easily over his shoulder.

"Charles, please," she protested, hitting his back with her small fists.

"The time for mercy is over, dearest," he said a moment before he unceremoniously tossed her into the pond.

She emerged from the water a moment later, spluttering, her hair falling from its pins and clips, her shift clinging to her body.

"I am furious with you, Charles Brandon," she shouted at him.

"No you aren't! You're only mad that I won," he yelled back.

"Fine then. I suppose you shall just have to watch me take a swim then because I have no intention of coming back over there."

"Then I suppose I shall just have to join you," he called back as she swam out a little bit further.

She watched as he stripped from his clothes, finally down to naught but his shorts after a few moments. She swallowed at the sight of him, all lean planes and broad shoulders. She had a hard enough time not touching him when he was fully clothed but not touching him when he looked like this before her was virtually impossible. She watched as he swam out to her, hard, fluid strokes that had him next to her in only a few minutes. The water wasn't especially deep and even though she was unable to stand, he was. He reached for her waist, drawing her close to him, wrapping her legs about his waist.

"And now," he said softly, "I shall claim my prize."

"And what might that be, your grace?" she asked, her eyes dark with desire.

"You'll see," he answered the moment before he brought his mouth to hers.

When he pulled away, her eyes were still shut, her lips rosy with his touch, her mouth slightly parted. If the smiles didn't absolutely undo her, the kisses most certainly would.

She felt his hand on the small of her back, felt the gentle pressure he exerted there as he tried to tilt her back. Thinking he meant to dunk her under once more, she struggled for a minute until he whispered into her ear, "I want you to float."

She nodded and let him push her back slightly until she was upon her back in the water. Her shift had tangled about her legs, heavy and weighing her down so he lifted its hem, settling it around her waist. She could feel his hands slip under her backside , drawing her closer and placing her legs over each of his shoulders.

"Charles, what…" she began, attempting to lift her head to look at him.

"Shh," he whispered, "Just let me love you, my darling," he said.

A moment or two passed and then she felt his mouth, hot against the inside of her thigh as it kissed a trail over it. The cold water was suddenly the temperature of a bath and she clenched and unclenched her hands in an effort to keep herself above the water. Sliding her forward a little more, he brought his mouth to her core, lapping over her clit, swirling it with his tongue, licking the sensitive spot on the underside that he knew drove her mad with desire. She was gasping, tossing her head from side to side and he worried that she might dip under so he reached one arm under her spine, settling it behind her head to help keep her in place. With his other hand, he spread the lips of her sex wider, giving him greater access to her, allowing him to feast upon her with all the tenderness and affection he normally treated her with. Her hips moved in small circles as his tongue ran from the bottom to the top of her opening. Her head was moving with a frenzy upon his hand and she was gasping for air and mumbling his name.

"Easy, my love," he said, stilling her hips with his other hand, stroking over her waist gently, bringing her back from the brink. The gentleness of his fingers, combined with the undulations of the water relaxed her for a few moments, just long enough to allow her to breathe normally once more and then he moved his mouth back over her once more. A few more licks of his tongue, the press of his thumb against the underside of her clit, the gentle thrusting and stroking of a finger inside her all had her reaching for climax once more.

She heard him groan in frustration after another minute or two and then he was gently placing her feet back down upon the ground.

"What…I thought…did I do something wrong?" she asked in worry.

"No, I need more room. I need you on solid ground to do what I want," he said. He nodded towards the small bank where this had all begun only a little while earlier and they swam hastily to the shore. She was gifted with a scintillating view of his erection and backside as he emerged from the water and while he laid out his coat upon the ground, balling up his shirt as a pillow for her head, she stripped from the soaking shift. By the time he turned back to her, she was naked and he could stand no more. Kissing her hard, he backed her up, laying her upon the ground, his mouth never leaving hers. His hands wandered down her chest, taking a breast into each palm, thumb swirling around her nipples as he did, biting on her lower lip, trailing kisses down her throat, shoulders, and collarbone. He took a peaked nipple into his warm mouth and she arched her back into his caresses. His hands branded her with each touch and caress, his tongue blazed a fiery trail across her body and she was certain that if her body was a sheet of paper, it would be his name written across it over and over again. She reached between their bodies, her fingertips grazing lightly over his cock, causing him to groan and toss back his head in pleasure. It was remarkable how the simplest of touches, the most gentle caresses could set him on fire.

"Charles. My love. Please," she whispered.

His name on her lips was one of the single most erotic sounds he'd ever heard in his life and he lived to hear her whisper it, to hear her say it, to hear her moan it in the throes of her passion.

He plunged into her then, hands holding her legs apart, thrusting deeply. She cried out at the feeling of fullness his cock had created inside of her and as he continued to move in and out of her, her hands scrabbled at his back. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, lifting her backside slightly from the ground which allowed him to penetrate her at a different, even more pleasurable angle. She could feel her control slipping once more, knew she was ready and so when his mouth met hers for a final, frantic kiss, she cried out her orgasm into his mouth. He gave a final surge and she could feel his hot seed as it filled her. He moved to her side so he could relax and as their breathing slowed and began to return to normal once more, he pulled her into his arms, her head resting upon his chest where she drew light patterns with her fingers.

"Je t'aime ma petite duchesse," he whispered against her head.

"Je t'aime trop, mon seigneur le plus aime," she replied and he smiled.

He was truly the most fortunate man alive.


	30. Chapter 30

It was just before dusk when they arrived at Henham, thanks to the delay caused by the rain and when they rode over the crest that led to the house, he stopped his horse to take it all in. It was beautiful with the green grass swaying slightly in the wind and the sound of the river rushing over the rocks in the background. The sky was a canvas of reds, pinks, and oranges, setting behind the house, lighting it with an almost heavenly glow. She rode up alongside him a moment later, halting her horse and taking it in.

"It's so beautiful here," she said.

"Even more beautiful with you here," he returned with a smile.

They nudged their horses onward and arrived at the house only a few minutes later. While they cleaned up and she unpacked, the staff prepared dinner and by the time she was bathed and dressed once more, he was already in the small room where dinner would be served. They spent the next few days together; he worked on estate matters in the mornings while she met with the staff and decided how to decorate each room. She'd brought most of her winter apparel with her and oversaw that it was unpacked and stored away until her chambers were finished and she officially became the Duchess of Suffolk. Their afternoons were spent together, walking the gardens and riding throughout the estate. He took her for picnic lunches along the river where they would lay side by side, his hands wandering over her prone form, his mouth gently insistent against hers. They had not made love again since that afternoon by the lake despite their obvious longing to do so. Both were afraid of discovery that would in any way tarnish her reputation and though she would never have said so, she didn't want to give anyone a reason to insist that everything they believed about him was true. So even though no one would have protested at an engaged couple, almost as good as married, being intimate, they refrained as much as possible, difficult though it was.

For Charles, it was the first time he'd ever been forced to get to know someone, to talk and learn what things she liked and didn't. He could easily list off foods she enjoyed, hobbies that interested her, her favorite color, the books she had read, and what she had been like as a child. He could not have listed one such thing about Mary. He knew what things made her laugh, what things caused her to become irritated, what things caught her interest and occupied her mind. In the past months he'd come to recognize her different smiles. There was her politely distracted or annoyed smile, all thin lips that turned up slightly in the corners. There was the doting sister smile, reserved for William and Henry where her eyes lit up and the smile spread slowly from one side to the other, like a ripple over a pond. There was her happy, all is well smile, a look that began with her bright eyes and a broad grin that spread from one cheek to the other, causing the dimples in her cheeks to appear. There was her seductive smile, the one she used only in his presence, a smile with a come hither look to her eyes and a half upturned crook to her mouth. And then there was his favorite, the smile she reserved for him alone, like a secret gift each time she bestowed it. Her eyes would meet his briefly then look away for a moment before settling back on his, all while her mouth curved upwards into a soft, gentle grin. If someone had told Charles Brandon five years ago that he would recognize any look on a woman's face other than desire, he would have laughed and insisted that there was no other look he needed to recognize. Even the King would be appalled to learn of this newfound appreciation Charles had for the fairer sex. She could make him laugh as no one else could, make him grin with delight just by entering a room, drive him mad with longing with just a brush of her hand against his or the whisper of a kiss over his mouth. It was the first time he had ever cared about or longed for the opinion of a woman about anything. He found himself desperate to discuss the events of each day with her, anxious to hear her sage counsel, her calming reminders that he was good and noble and kind.

Each night he would make his way to her chambers where he'd hold her, stroke her hair, and then sneak away once she was asleep. He hated being apart from her at any point, but especially at night when he longed to fall asleep beside her, longed to be able to lie naked with her, to touch her wherever and whenever he pleased without fear of gossip, scandal, or a pregnancy. He shared everything with her, more than he even shared with the King and it was both a strange and comforting feeling to know there was someone with whom he could share his innermost thoughts and feelings without fear of reprisal. He loved Henry; he had given Charles everything including the means to make himself a truly good match for the daughter of a Marquis, but it was a love that came with conditions, conditions that often left Charles in an uncomfortable place between his loyalty to his King and the prick of his conscience which seemed to have steadily grown since Jane had set foot in his life and in his heart.

When she left after those six blissful days together, part of him left with her. There were long, lingering kisses in his study before he took her out to the carriage that would carry her back to her home for the last time before they became man and wife. He stayed on at Henham for another three days before returning to London once more for the new proceedings in Henry's great matter. Dissatisfied with the way Cardinal Campeggio had left without rendering a verdict, Wolsey seemed to fall further and further from the King's favor. He had, in fact, received a letter from Norfolk the day before Jane's departure informing him of information about the Cardinal that needed to be dealt with quickly. As it turned out, Wolsey had, in short, been stealing from the King and it was rumored that he was also taking money from the French and supplying them with information about the English court and its monarch. Though no one could prove that rumor, even Henry seemed more cautious and guarded around his old friend and advisor.

Upon his return to London, he gathered with Norfolk and Thomas Boleyn, to discuss the next steps in their plot to bring Wolsey down. As distasteful as he found it to work with Boleyn and Norfolk, he felt he had no other choice and even with Jane's words of caution ringing in his ears, he agreed that he would continue to plant seeds of doubt in the King's mind. Days passed and then weeks and finally, Henry, enraged by what he saw as Wolsey's incompetence and inability to deal with this matter, solicited Norfolk and Boleyn for advice. The fall for Wolsey was quick. Arrest warrant in hand, Charles and Boleyn found the Cardinal in his chambers. With a smugly, satisfied grin and a note of delight in his voice, Charles took pleasure in taking the great seal from Wolsey and in presenting him with the warrant, signed by the King himself. No one who watched as Wolsey was led from his home to the carriage that would convey him to his only remaining home, felt sympathetic, the crowds jeered and threw rotten fruit and vegetables as he passed. The wheel of fortune had brought him low.

Now, with Wolsey out of the way, Henry began to see to it that the clergy would recognize him as supreme head of all matters both spiritual and temporal. He was, after all, the King, and therefore as fit to judge as God himself. He'd appointed Thomas More as Chancellor since Wolsey had vacated the position and despite the protestations of both More and Bishop Fisher, Henry would have his way. In Wolsey's absence, Charles and Norfolk were appointed joint chairs of the King's council, though Charles had little patience for or interest in the day to day operations of the state. He left most decisions to Norfolk and attended to things only when summoned by the King. Norfolk, ever worried that Wolsey might be returned to the King's good graces, and knowing that it meant he, Suffolk, and Boleyn would all be his main targets, cautioned Charles repeatedly that they needed to be more forceful in the destruction of the Cardinal. Charles merely scoffed at this idea, reminding the Duke of Norfolk that Wolsey was far away in his run down home with no friends and no love from the King.

Though he made himself present each evening at the court presentations and dinners, he would return to his townhome as soon as he could slip away. There he'd write long letters to Jane, filling her in on the latest court happenings and always reminding her of his love and affection. In bed he'd find himself unable to sleep, restless with thoughts of her and driven half out of his mind with lust. He'd taken to pleasuring himself nearly every evening as he lay in his cold bed, thoughts of her beautiful face, her exquisite body, and memories of her whispers of his name and the little moans of pleasure she made driving him onward until his body tensed and he'd spilled himself into his hand or a towel. He was spending half his morning at confession and the other half thinking of her. He'd gone out of his way to avoid any interaction with the Lady Anne, speaking to her only when necessary and even then, always in the presence of the King. His voice was politely clipped and it was evident to everyone who witnessed their interactions that there was no love lost between the King's consort and his dearest friend. Most people assumed this was because they were vying for the King's affections, only those closest to the throne realized it was a result of Anne's treatment of the Duke's fiancée.

With only a few weeks remaining until he'd return to the country and marry Jane, things took a sudden turn and Wolsey was tried and convicted for treason. It seemed, in desperation for his poor conditions, he had solicited the Queen, now herself a victim of the King's capriciousness, and promised to aid her in her cause. He'd been taken to the Tower and within a day was dead. The King, informed of the death of his longtime and trusted advisor, was said to have wept at the loss. Rumors circulated that the Cardinal had taken his own life but no one could, or would, verify the veracity of those statements. With the Cardinal's death, the submission of the clergy was not so difficult to obtain as everyone feared what would happen to them if they dared deny the King. England was broken from the Catholic Church and the papacy and Henry, and Henry alone, now was head of the Church of England. The winds of change had blown like the harshest of winter storms throughout the kingdom leaving suffering, misery, and death in every corner. Charles, no longer able to stand the machinations of Norfolk and Boleyn or the fluttering of courtiers about the newfound star, the Lady Anne, begged his leave of the King, reminding him that his wedding to the Lady Jane was only several days away and that he would be expected shortly. Henry, delighted with this victory and with the fact that he could now marry whomever he pleased, had readily agreed and given his blessing to the new couple.

Early October in the countryside was nothing short of magnificent. The colors; reds, oranges, and yellows were more vibrant, more alive outside of the city. The closer he drew to Grentham, the harder he drove his horse. He'd sent no word about his pending arrival, had merely fled the city as soon as he was able. Sunset was just beginning to fall as he rode over the crest that looked down upon the estate. With a smile, he rode down the hill. The grooms scurried from their stable, taking his horse and seeking to ascertain if he brought additional luggage or guests. He waved them off and went in search of Jane who he knew he'd find in the gardens. Making his way through the maze, he went to her usual spot, the hidden gazebo where she spent idle hours thinking, reading, and just enjoying the outdoors. She'd shown him the spot over the summer, her own personal haven, and he'd memorized the way to her. Rounding the corner, he spotted her sitting on the bench inside the gazebo, looking out over the hills, taking in the sunset. As though she sensed someone's presence, she turned to look and her face lit up in a delighted smile. She rose to her feet and he rushed forward to sweep her into his arms. He kissed her, holding her close, breathing her in, letting her presence calm him after the troubled days he had just lived through.

"Charles, you're three days early!" she exclaimed, "We had no idea you were coming today. Why didn't you send a message?"

"The King gave his permission this morning. I left as soon as I was able. I wanted to surprise you," he said with a grin.

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, loving the feel of his chest beneath her own, the way his strong arms felt around her. "I'm so happy you're here," she whispered against his cloak.

"Sweetheart, are you crying?" he asked, pulling away slightly to look at her.

"I know it's silly. I'm just so relieved to see you."

"Did you not think I would come? We are to be married in five days time," he noted.

"I know. I know. I just worried…thought that maybe…"

"Maybe what, darling?"

"That perhaps the King would rescind his permission or that woman would create some sort of calamity that would require your attention and cause delay for us."

"He's been made the head of the Church," he said softly because he knew she would not be happy with this news.

She let his words sink in, considered what this meant. "It's done then? He's broken away from the Catholic Church?" she asked.

"So it would seem," he replied.

"Fascinating isn't it? How the man they once called the Defender of the Faith, is the same person who willingly defies the Pope so that he can marry that…that…that woman."

"Shhh," he said, placing his finger to her lips, "When it's you and I alone we may talk of such things but not here, where anyone might hear or come upon us."

"So you agree with me then? That his actions are those of a man desperate to do whatever it takes to father a son?"

"Jane, you know my feelings on this matter."

"Tell me. Tell me that you don't agree with what he's doing."

He looked at her then, surprised by how angry and upset she seemed.

"Why does this matter so much to you, my love?"

"Because I want to know that you do not intend to do the same with me," she responded, biting her lip, unable to meet his eyes.

Ah, so that was the crux of things. She worried that if the King could put aside his lawful wife, what would prevent other nobles from doing the same.

"Jane, look at me, please," he urged and she finally met his eyes, "I do not intend to put you aside."

"But what if…"

"Not even if a dozen of Odysseus' sirens appeared and tried to lure me away," he said.

"People do fall out of love," she said.

He laughed, "I will not fall out of love with you, Jane. Not after working so hard to get to this moment, not after waiting and longing and hoping. In five days' time you will be the Duchess of Suffolk and I will take you to my bed and make you mine in every way," he whispered into her ear.

"But we have already—"

"In every way, Jane. I will make love to you until we are spent and then I will hold you all night and wake with you beside me in the morning and start all over again that day and every day after until I see you ripe with my child."

She was breathless at his words. The thought of him taking her to bed, of being able to stay together and awaken together, of being able to enjoy the private intimacies of husband and wife, sent a tremor through her.

"I love you now, Jane and will love you in five days, and even more in the days, weeks, months, and years that follow. And someday when I'm old and grey, and too feeble to rise from my bed, I know it is your beautiful face that I'll be looking upon as I breathe my last and when your time comes they will bury you beside me and we will be together again in paradise."

She buried her face against his cloak once more, feeling him press a kiss to the top of her head. They stood this way for long moments, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close, hers around his waist, pressing her face against him. As the sun set behind them, it began to grow dark and he finally pulled away from her reluctantly.

"We should go back. Everyone will wonder where you are," he said, taking her hand in his.

"Charles," she said and he turned back to her.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I cannot wait to become the Duchess of Suffolk," she said softly.

He grinned. "Neither can I, my love, neither can I."


End file.
